CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER 2
α—1
“Hello.” The voice was like a mountain echo; it was a woman’s voice, one I had no memory of hearing before.
It was neither Haruhi nor Nagato, nor the Asahina of any time plane. Not Miss Mori or Sakanaka, much less Kuyoh Suoh or Kyoko Tachibana, nor even Sasaki, of whom there was some small possibility. One word was enough to know. It was nobody I knew, a voice that had never once vibrated my eardrums.
“Ah. You’re in the bath, aren’t you? I’m ever so sorry. Excuse me. Shall I call again later?” Before I could say that wasn’t necessary, she continued. “But, but, I shouldn’t call too many times, so. Again, I’m so sorry.” Her voice emerged from the phone like the sound of a running river.
“Who is this? Just tell me your name.”
“It’s me. M-E, me.”
No, this wasn’t Haruhi, so that did not constitute a self-introduction, I said.
“Aw, c’mon!” said the voice. Since it was coming through the phone, I can’t say it was very clear, but the voice’s owner was speaking brightly and cheerily. “But that’s okay. I just called to say hello. Hee hee, your little sister’s a cutie. I always wanted a little sister like that. ‘Arithmetic dri-i-i-lls!’ So cute!”
Now then, I thought. I still had no memory of hearing it, but its intonation sounded like someone speaking in a voice they would normally never use. But no matter how much I searched my internal voice recordings, I couldn’t find it. It just sounded young, sort of like my little sister’s.
“I just wanted to hear my upperclassman’s voice,” said the voice’s owner. “That’s all. I just wanted to. I might need your assistance in the future, so thanks in advance. I hope we can be friends for a long time.”
Now wait just a minute. She was calling me an upperclassman? Which meant she was younger than me. Still, the reality was I didn’t remember her, but before I could press her for her full name—
“I’m hanging up. If we have a chance to meet, I’ll see you then. Hee hee.”
Click.
She hung up rudely.
What was going on here? Having met Sasaki for the first time in a long while, plus Kyoko Tachibana and Kuyoh Suoh, I was at my limit. I didn’t want any new characters showing up for a little while.
I had a sudden realization and looked at the caller ID history. Of course she’d used a blocked number.
I got out of the bath and put on my pajamas, all the while asking myself if I had any clue as to who the girl was, but it was a waste of time.
“What’s with today, anyway?”
There was no point in thinking about it. Whatever was going to happen would happen. And if it wouldn’t happen, I’d find some kind of reason to make it happen. If it came to that, I could consult (in order of degree of difficulty) Koizumi, Asahina, Nagato—and an infinite distance beyond that, Haruhi. I couldn’t be held responsible for what would happen after that.
“What a pain.”
Tomorrow was a full day off, and so long as Haruhi didn’t hit upon something while I was asleep, I’d be able to enjoy my Sunday.
I carried Shamisen like a heating pad in order to ward off the post-bath chill, and I headed to the room where my sister waited.
β—1
“Hello.” The voice was like a mountain echo; it was a woman’s voice, one I’d heard just this morning.
I would’ve preferred it to be Haruhi, Nagato, or even Asahina the Elder. Haruhi probably would’ve just gone on about her plans for the next day, and Nagato would’ve needed to brief me on Kuyoh. There were any number of questions I’d saved up for Asahina the Elder.
“Ah, bathing, are you? Your sister should’ve said something. Shall I call back? Although the fact that you picked up the phone suggests that you’re going to get out of the bath comparatively soon.”
It was not anyone I’d guessed it might be. I said the familiar voice’s owner’s name. “Sasaki, huh?”
“Indeed, it is I. About this morning, I’d wanted to talk a bit more, but Suzumiya and the others arrived early. I suppose you could call it a miscalculation.” Sasaki’s voice chuckled. “Still, your little sister hasn’t changed a bit. I told her my name, but she either didn’t catch it or didn’t remember me—but I suppose that’s not surprising. We’ve only met twice—wait, three times, I think it was.”
“If you want to be her math tutor, that’s plenty.” This was one of my few contributions to the household.
“I know. I’ve no intention of snatching your little sister away. There are billions of perfect strangers in the world, but only a few are related to you by blood, so their value rises in proportion to their scarcity. Such relationships must be treasured—blood is thicker than water.”
“So what do you want?”
“You certainly do get right to the point. I’d like you to come to the usual spot at the station tomorrow. You know the place I’m speaking of. As for the business—perhaps it would be better if Tachibana and the others explained it instead of me. My guess is that you’ll understand it better than I do.”
“So they’re all coming, then?” I got irritated thinking about the silent, eerie Kuyoh.
“Yes, and he’ll be there too—the self-proclaimed time traveler.”
This just got better and better. If that guy spouted off more nonsense about Asahina, I wasn’t confident I could control myself. If it looked like I was going to slug him, Sasaki had better stop me, I said.
“So you’ll come, then? Kyon, don’t worry. All three of them just want to have a peaceful conversation with you. A verbal exchange of views is what everybody hopes for.”
Sure, so long as that alien can actually speak Earth language. Speaking of which—“Sasaki, where did you go with that crowd today?”
“So I need an alibi now? We got on the train and took it to the shopping district, where we wandered around for a while. Tachibana is quite the good-natured young lady, you know. She told me all about her high school.” Sasaki then casually added, “And about what happened four years ago.”
Four years ago.
I’d first heard about it a year earlier, when it had been three years ago. It was like a buzzword that was on everybody’s lips, a punch line that made everyone shake their heads. It was the amount of time passed since Haruhi had used her bizarre superpowers to do something. Four years—time for another Olympics.
“You should ask her yourself. It’s still confusing to me. Ah, Kyon—I’m actually quite worried about all this. I feel like a grade-schooler who can’t swim, and my first pool class is tomorrow.”
I recalled Sasaki’s swimsuit-clad form as she loitered beside the pool in middle school. She was a girl, wasn’t she? So long as she was mixing with other girls in our class, she seemed like a totally ordinary female student. Her only above-average qualities were her politeness and the sparkle in her eyes as she chatted. Yes, so long as she was talking to someone other than a boy, she was a middle school student—now high school student—like any other.
And yet in spite of all that, why would Sasaki be going to the trouble of making this kind of bizarre phone call? It was highly irregular. There had to be some mistake somewhere. Whose fault was it?
“Sasaki. I know you’re the mouthpiece for that group. But what I don’t know is why you’re doing it.”
Over the telephone, Sasaki was quiet for a moment, then seemed to suppress a chuckle. “Because I’m your good friend. Better me than one of the others, right? I know you’re not so easy to fool that if one of them called you, you’d just say, ‘Oh, really?’ and come right over. Although you are pretty easy to argue with.”
I told her I wasn’t trying to win a debate with her.
“You’re an excellent listener. Clever enough, but ignorant to a certain degree. Don’t be mad; it’s a compliment. It’s not any fun for the speaker if the listener refuses to understand what she’s saying, but there’s also no point in conveying information the listener already knows. On that count, I don’t need to worry about you, Kyon. You have that feeling about you. You’re easy to talk to.”
Somehow I didn’t feel like I was being complimented, but if it was Sasaki talking, I’d go along with it. Now that I thought about it, it had always been this way.
“I’ll be hanging up soon. I don’t want to take away from your sister’s study time. I’d hate for you to lose the opportunity to show off as her older brother. Make sure you arrive on time tomorrow—otherwise I’ll have wasted my time flipping through the school name registers looking for your information. It would’ve been quicker if your phone number were written on your New Year’s card.”
I’d be there. Oh, I’d be there, all right.
I definitely wanted to have a conversation with them. They were an alien, time traveler, and esper whose enemy status I no longer needed to confirm via IFF. It was convenient that they’d all decided to meet me together, rather than separately.
“Make sure you don’t catch cold after your bath. My regards to your family.” She hung up unhurriedly.
I hurried out of the bath, changed into my pajamas, and dashed into my room.
β—2
On the bed, Shamisen was using my cell phone as a pillow; I picked it up and dialed. The answer came after one ring.
“This is Koizumi.”
I was impressed at his speed; it was as though he’d been sitting next to the phone, waiting for it to ring.
“Well, I suspected you would call. It’s almost too late. I honestly expected you to call right after we dispersed.”
I called immediately after Sasaki called me. If this was late, then I’d have to start putting tachyons in the phone line.
“Ah, seems our conversation isn’t meshing. I see—you received a call from her, did you? I wasn’t speaking about whether or not Sasaki called you, but rather that I expected you to call me. Didn’t you have something you wished to ask of me?”
“Do you know someone named Kyoko Tachibana?”
“Of course I do. She is in the management of an organization whose path will never intersect with ours—essentially, an enemy power.”
I very much wanted to know what sort of hostilities they engaged in. It didn’t seem as though they would be exchanging gunfire in secret, so—surely not psychic battles in closed space?
“That sounds like it would be rather fun. Unfortunately, it is nothing so easily understandable. She and her kind cannot enter the closed space that Haruhi Suzumiya creates… but Kyoko Tachibana’s faction and my Agency are not so very different. You could say that while we are founded on similar concepts, our interpretations differ.”
And that would be the theology that held that Haruhi created the world three… no, four years ago?
“As it is impossible to prove, that must remain a mere hypothesis, but to speak plainly: yes. It has many believers within the Agency. As regards the fact that Haruhi Suzumiya gave us in the Agency our power, that has one hundred percent agreement. It transcends reason and is an unshakeable conviction among us all, including me.”
And what about Kyoko Tachibana?
“Consequently, she is a representative of those who did not receive power from Haruhi Suzumiya. Or perhaps I should say ‘nonetheless.’ They believe themselves to be the rightful group. Unlike us, they do not think of Suzumiya as the ultimate authority. While they should simply stand aside and observe, their rash understanding compels them to attempt to enter the stage. Though I must say I sympathize with the urge.” Koizumi’s tone was scattered with compassion. “So, what did Sasaki have to say?”
“She wants to meet tomorrow.” I briefly relayed the contents of Sasaki’s call. “I don’t know what it is, but she seems to want to talk to me. I mean, I sure as heck have some stuff to say to her. I’m gonna give them a real earful.”
Koizumi gave a short laugh. “I should explain that Kyoko Tachibana will never use violence against you or Suzumiya. I expect she was against the previous kidnapping incident. And the two of you are very important to her and her organization. The dangerous one is Nagato’s counterpart. Her kind is even harder to understand than the Data Overmind.”
After he cautioned me to please be as prudent as I could, I ended my emergency-hotline call with Koizumi. I can say that the reason the conversation hadn’t dragged on longer was because Koizumi understood what I was getting at. If I were kidnapped, I’d be counting on him.
“Now, then.”
It was time to call Nagato.
I had her number so thoroughly memorized, there was no need to consult my phone’s memory.
This time, I had to wait for three rings.
“…”
“Nagato, it’s me.”
“…”
“About tomorrow—” She hadn’t given me a proper response, but I could tell who it was from the quality of the silence. I just kept talking. “—So that’s why tomorrow I’m going to be seeing the same alien we saw today,” I finally said.
“I see,” came Nagato’s blunt statement.
“Assuming Sasaki can be trusted, they’re basically peaceful. Koizumi seemed to mostly agree. What do you think?”
“…” There was a silence like she was looking up words in a dictionary. “At present, the risk is low. A low-enough level to be ignored.”
I believed it, if only because Nagato said it. I felt my body relax.
“The Data Overmind is currently dedicating all resources to analysis of them.”
“Have you figured anything out?”
“Not yet. Only that it is a macroscopic information consciousness.”
“Were you able to say anything to that Kuyoh girl?”
“I was unable to share basic concepts. Her cognitive processes remain unclear.”
So the mysterious alien remained a mystery.
Just as I was wondering if there was some way I could capture the Kuyoh girl and turn her over to some kind of space research agency, Nagato suddenly spoke up.
“Their designation has been temporarily determined.”
“Oh ho. Care to let me hear it?”
“The Heavenly Canopy Dominion.”
Without consideration for any theatrics, Nagato continued.
“Because from our perspective, they came from the heavens.”
α—2
Having dispatched my homework, I deposited Shamisen in my sister’s room before returning to my own, falling into the bed, picking up my cell phone, and dialing. The answer came after one ring.
“This is Koizumi.”
I was impressed at his speed; it was as though he’d been sitting next to the phone, waiting for it to ring.
“Well, I suspected you would call. It’s almost too late. I honestly expected you to call right after we dispersed.”
I wasn’t that impatient. The truth was that I needed some time to collect my thoughts.
“About that group today—what the hell were they?”
“That’s a question I’d like to ask you as well, but regarding Kyoko Tachibana, there’s little of note. I expected her faction to start becoming impatient soon. The kidnapping incident was their opening move. Of course, it’s not certain that it was made at Kyoko Tachibana’s behest.”
To think he’d be arguing for the defense.
“For my part, I only wish to avoid pointless fighting. Violent conflict does not particularly suit me. Fortunately Kyoko Tachibana can still be reasoned with. There’s the old saying—‘A wise enemy is better than a foolish ally.’ In any case, I would’ve preferred they continue watching from the sidelines, but this too may be an opportunity. ‘When comes winter, spring too is nigh,’ they say. Don’t you think this is better than continuing a glacially paced cold war?”
So long as it didn’t grate too much on my nerves.
“Another possibility—the time traveler may have indoctrinated her. Given that Nagato’s opponent has also appeared, her faction will also have to move.”
But what did they want?
“To be honest, Kyoko Tachibana’s organization and my Agency are not so very different. You could say that we are founded on similar ideas, though our explanations for Haruhi Suzumiya are different. However, they wish to reject, as much as they can, the possibility that they are mistaken. I understand the urge. The same is true of me. We are able to wield a supernatural power because Suzumiya gave it to us. This is an unwavering conviction.”
And that would be the theology that held that Haruhi created the world three… no, four years ago?
“It is not a matter of believing or not believing. Setting aside talk of ‘God’ for a moment, there is simply no doubt that Suzumiya is the source of closed space, and that we were created in order to deal with that closed space. I have known that from the very beginning. It will not do to be told, now, that I was mistaken. It is something I cannot concede.
“It would be best if the problem could be solved via debate,” said Koizumi in a resigned tone. “But let us not worry about Kyoko Tachibana and Sasaki. They are, at least, humans who live in the same time period as we do. Their values can be shared and they can be easily observed. But the movements of the TFEI that opposes the Data Overmind are totally opaque. Given the fact that Kuyoh Suoh is the only individual of her kind we’ve observed, she is likely the only instance of her kind on Earth. Since her methods are incomprehensible, her goals are likewise. Compared with her, time travelers are practically cute.”
Asahina was obviously cute, but the same could certainly not be said of all time travelers.
“I quite agree. As Asahina’s actions are the same as ours, she falls within our area of protection. She is a magnificently adorable upperclassman, after all. We certainly won’t abandon her. However, we had no desire for the conflicts of the future to be dragged into the past. But surely the various time travelers can work out their differences themselves.
“To do otherwise would be awfully irresponsible,” Koizumi added. “Nagato and I will take care of the rest. And you, of course. I’m quite sure you won’t sit idly by if you see the hand of evil closing in on Suzumiya.”
I guessed not. She was our brigade chief, after all.
“We need only to wait for our opponent to take action. There’s no need to worry more than usual. After all is said and done, we do have Suzumiya on our side.”
α—3
Just as I finished my call with Nagato, my sister—evidently unable to wait any longer—came into my room, bringing her homework with her. However, she then scattered her pencils and drill book on the floor and started playing with Shamisen. It took an hour for her to finish her homework. She’s definitely related to me, as she has no real talent for academics. She can do simple arithmetic well enough, but if there’s a twist, she gets totally stumped.
I handed her the notebook and practical drill sheets that I’d solved for her. “When you’re done, get out—and if you can, take Shamisen with you. He’s awfully heavy when he sleeps on my bed.”
“Shami, wanna sleep with me?”
The calico cat looked at my sister dubiously, then slowly curled up on my bed.
“He says no.” My sister seemed somehow happy as she gathered up her homework and danced out of the room. It was nice when she did as she was told. I’d give her that much.
I casually turned on the TV, flipping channels without really watching anything as I thought about the next day. It would probably be best if I prepared.
Might as well get a good night’s rest.
α—3
After finishing my call with Koizumi, I thought about calling Nagato, but ultimately I decided that it was getting late and I didn’t have anything in particular to say to her, so I left the phone on the pillow.
If Kuyoh were some kind of death goddess who represented an immediate threat to Nagato, Nagato wouldn’t just sit there silently. And tomorrow was Sunday. Our benevolent and merciful brigade leader had seen fit to bless us with a day of rest, so I should probably make the most of it and rest up.
On Monday I’d see them all again at school, whether I liked it or not. I could hear Nagato’s lecture on aliens during lunch in the clubroom.
Just as I was thinking of reading a book I still hadn’t returned, there was a scratch at the door. I opened it and Shamisen came in with a sleepy look on his face, purring. Without so much as a word of thanks for me, his bellboy, he climbed up to the bed, curled up in a ball, and closed his eyes.
With a face like both the world’s life span and a cat’s were eternal.
α—4
The next day, Sunday.
With nothing much to do, I read books, played video games, and basically passed the day lazing around to my heart’s content. It was good to do this sometimes—good to have an idle day free from Haruhi and the rest.
I would see them tomorrow. The melancholic Sunday night was ending, resetting the week back to its beginning, the week whose only purpose was bringing yet another weekend.
Monday began.
β—4
The next day, Sunday.
At 7:00 AM I awoke and dressed myself completely, and by the time I was ready to leave the house, it was thirty minutes after my alarm had rung.
I had never before felt so much that my usual routines of eating early and dressing early were such a waste. It would’ve been nice to sleep a bit more, but if I’d gone back to sleep, I wouldn’t have woken again for another two hours.
With nothing better to do, I was reading the morning paper when my younger sister, who generally boasted of being the earliest riser in the family, came into the kitchen in her pajamas and looked at me disbelievingly.
“Wow. You’ve gotten up before me two days in a row. Why?”
Could be any number of things. Believe it or not, I was a high schooler whose life was much busier than any sixth grader’s. The time would come when she would look back with nostalgia on how easy she had it, I said. She’d better enjoy elementary school while it lasted and not write anything too crazy in her graduation essay.
“Huh. Hey, where’re you going today? Out with Haru-nyan?”
If I were careless here, she’d wind up wanting to come along. No doubt Sasaki would tolerate it with a smile, but I could just imagine that future bastard’s openly nasty face. Heck, I should just let her come along. It’d be more of a pain for them than it would be for me.
“I’m going to see some friends from middle school.”
But in the end I decided to chase her off. I’d probably have more opportunities to see Sasaki again, but I didn’t want to expose my naive little sister—who still believed in Santa—to harsh reality. The fact was that aliens were strange and time travelers were jerks, but even I didn’t want to crush her dreams like that.
Just stay at home with Shamisen, I said. And if Haruhi happens to call, just put her off the trail. My sister could say anything she wanted so long as she didn’t mention so much as the S in “Sasaki.”
“Okay!” She dashed upstairs to wash her face.
Now was my chance. It was quite early, but this was the time to leave. If my sister asked me any more questions, I might wind up letting the cat out of the bag. I just couldn’t calm down in the house. The feeling of wanting to just get today’s events out of the way weighed on my chest, and there was nothing I could do about it.
But just as I was leaving the house, I discovered that my rare early rising had borne fruit.
As though it had been waiting for me to open my front door—
“Rain, huh?” I replaced the bike key I’d just taken out and reached instead for an umbrella as I murmured the words.
The slight sprinkle with drops far apart enough to count took only thirty seconds to shift to a shower, and then to a downpour.
Despite the forecast that claimed there was but a 10 percent chance of rain, it was as though someone were controlling the weather to try and stop me from leaving—or perhaps the black clouds were meant as a warning.
Although there was no thunder.
Despite the curse of the rain, I headed to the station, where the same trio from the previous day awaited me.
Sasaki had a blue folding umbrella, while Kyoko Tachibana’s was a designer model of some kind, and Kuyoh Suoh in her school uniform (like a rip-off of Nagato) held the kind of cheap transparent plastic umbrella you could buy at any convenience store; each one of them deflecting the rain in their unique ways.
Kuyoh’s voluminous hair actually stuck out from under the protection radius of the convenience store umbrella, but it didn’t seem to be getting wet. She also seemed to be invisible to random passersby, although not perfectly so, since when their umbrellas brushed hers, they would move aside. That was certainly convenient.
Incidentally, I wondered: the time traveler jerk hadn’t shown up yet—was he wearing chameleon camouflage?
“No, he’s in the café,” answered Sasaki. “He said there was no way he was standing around in the rain, especially not to meet you. I had him go inside and save us seats.”
What a jerk. Two months’ time hadn’t improved his attitude at all. Although I didn’t know how much time had passed for him.
“Seems the two of you have quite a friendship. I haven’t heard what happened, but I guess that’s a better relationship than none at all. How nice,” said Sasaki with a chuckle. “It’s a relief. If he’d truly had bad intentions, he wouldn’t have taken such a direct approach. It’s not just you, you know. He treats me pretty much the same way.”
Which was even more unforgivable. If he hated this era so much, he shouldn’t have come. He should learn from Asahina’s example. Even in this time, there weren’t many people so eagerly devoted to making tea.
Sasaki laughed quietly. “I’d like to try Asahina’s tea myself. Think I could visit North High sometime? I should’ve gone during last year’s festival—too bad I missed my chance. I’ll definitely come by this year.”
I wasn’t able to tell her she shouldn’t come. “You can come, I guess, but our culture festival doesn’t really have anything special to see—”
“Excuse me, you two.” Kyoko Tachibana stuck her head between the two of us, keeping her umbrella held high such that it didn’t collide with ours. “Could you save your chitchat for later? The reason I called you here,” she began, clearing her throat and giving both Sasaki and me a wink, “is because we have a lot to talk about. It’s very important. I believe Sasaki said this too.”
“Sorry,” said Sasaki with a smile. “It’s not like I forgot. I just pretended to forget. To be honest, it’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”
Meanwhile, Kuyoh remained perfectly silent, as though she were a 1:1-scale figure. I guess words really weren’t her strong point.
“We should hurry. I get the feeling that our messenger from the future is getting impatient in the café. It’s about that time,” said Tachibana Kyoko, and started to walk. Kuyoh did likewise without so much as a nod, moving only slightly faster than a kasajizo carrying a heavy bag of rice down a snowy road. Set in her pale-white face were such sleepy-looking eyes that it made me wonder if she were actually asleep. I wasn’t sure whether this alien had low blood pressure or was just bad with humidity, but she was definitely less energetic than she had been. If Nagato was diamond dust, Kuyoh was a fluffy, fragile snowflake.
Both Sasaki and Kyoko Tachibana acted as though Kuyoh didn’t exist, probably because they knew that they could just leave her alone and she’d still follow them around. In this regard, their treatment wasn’t unlike Haruhi’s awareness of Nagato.
Kuyoh moved as expected, and despite her short stride, maintained a constant distance, never falling behind. As I also walked, I noticed something.
Our destination seemed to be the usual café that had become a standard part of the SOS Brigade’s morning routine, the place where with 99 percent certainty a particular brigade member—namely, me—would pick up the tab.
My expectations were not betrayed, and the two girls stopped in front of the automatic sliding glass door, beyond which I could see him, face sulky, cup slightly tipped in his hand.
As soon as he raised his head and recognized me, his lip twisted; he seemed unamused.
Just as when I’d met him by the roadside flower bed, his smile looked like Koizumi’s would, if Koizumi had fallen to the dark side.
There was no point in going this far to imitate the SOS Brigade, and it made me squirm. Even worse, the seat I was sitting in was exactly the same one I’d sat in the previous day, with Sasaki next to me and the three weirdos across from us.
The waitress brought us four glasses of ice water, and five mouths, mine included, showed no sign of movement.
I was busy glaring at the time traveler jerk whose name I still didn’t know, while Sasaki’s and Kyoko Tachibana’s faces were relaxed, and Kuyoh was as still as a porcelain doll. Nobody made a sound. It felt like the last war council in a besieged castle that was about to fall to surrounding enemy forces.
It was finally Kyoko Tachibana who took the role of chairwoman. “So, a lot’s happened,” she said, breaking the ice, “but I am very excited indeed. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day? We finally stand at the starting line. I thank you for this opportunity.”
“And to you too, Sasaki. I apologize for forcing the issue.”
“Sure,” said Sasaki shortly, looking up to me. “Kyon, you don’t have to look so scary. Just listen to what she has to say. I respect your judgment. You’ve got far more experience with this sort of thing than I do. My intuition and analysis are not particularly good, so I have to rely on precedent and experience. That’s why it’s so reassuring that you’re here. I’ve got no reference for any of this, you see.”
I took my gaze off of Asahina’s counterpart; watching him wasn’t doing my eyes any favors. “Let’s keep this short.”
I tried to sound as serious as I could, but the reaction from the time traveler was a sneering laugh. It bugged me.
“Let’s start with your name.” If he remained the anonymous time traveling jerk, my impression of him could only get worse.
In the face of my latest disdainful glare, the sarcastic face’s owner spoke; it was the first time in two months I’d heard his voice.
“Names are merely identifiers of convenience.” His scornful tone was just as I remembered it. He shifted uneasily. “Call me whatever you like. I don’t care. It’s meaningless. Just as meaningless as you calling Mikuru Asahina Mikuru Asahina. Absurd.”
He sure liked the negative. I should’ve approved my sister’s request and let her come along. A few words from this guy were all it took to depress me. And just what part of Asahina was meaningless?
“Yes, well, still,” said Sasaki. “In this day and age, it’s still useful to have a name to call someone, whether or not it’s his real name. It can be a government rank or position. ‘Magistrate’ is fine; just give Kyon something to call you, please?”
“Fujiwara,” he said with surprising readiness. “That is what you may call me.”
“You heard him,” said Sasaki after she heard the name, which was almost certainly fake. She shrugged. “So now you’ve been introduced to everybody.”
I knew their names, anyway. But I was pretty sure that wasn’t why I was here. It was easy enough to refer to them as Time Traveler Guy, Kidnapper Lady, and Heavenly Canopy Dominion Alien.
“Yes,” said Kyoko Tachibana. “Now we’ll get to business.”
The probable esper girl cleared her throat and, flanked by the time traveler and alien, smiled like a door-to-door saleslady beginning her pitch.
“We believe that the true divine being is Sasaki, and not Haruhi Suzumiya.”
Suddenly, a bomb dropped.
I’d put the glass of ice water to my lips, and the thought of doing a spit-take crossed my mind, but I banished it immediately, swallowing as I set the glass back on the table and spoke. “What’d you say?”
“I mean exactly what I said. Is there something about it you don’t understand?” Kyoko Tachibana said brightly, then sighed in relief. “Whew, I finally said it. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages, but there just wasn’t a chance, and it’s bothered me for a long time. It would’ve been easier if Koizumi hadn’t been around. I even planned to transfer into your school this spring, but I was too afraid of him. The incident earlier only confirmed that. I definitely don’t want to see Miss Mori ever again.”
She giggled in a satisfied way, just like a normal high school girl.
“Yes. Just as Koizumi has been tasked with protecting Suzumiya, we must watch over Sasaki. But because the alien and the time traveler both went to Suzumiya’s side, I was just so incredibly worried about it. It was unbearable.”
She looked at her two counterparts, then continued. “In order to avoid identity collapse, I had no other choice. Koizumi had Mikuru Asahina and Yuki Nagato, but I did not, so I needed others. And now I’ve finally assembled them.”
This was not something to be trusted lightly. If Haruhi wasn’t the pseudo-god Koizumi said she was, then what had I been doing for the past year? Nearly getting stabbed by Asakura, actually getting stabbed by Asakura, spending summer vacation in a time loop, traveling through time, traveling back through time, following directions from the future, and above all having to play along with Haruhi’s impulses, and then there was that time Nagato rewrote the universe… If Haruhi wasn’t a walking mystery zone, then none of these things could have happened, I said.
“That is one way of looking at things. One reality. But reality is not limited to the singular. The surface can be a lie, obscuring the truth behind it—that’s standard procedure in mystery novels.”
For mysteries I suggested she see Koizumi, and for literature, consult with Nagato.
“Sasaki,” I said. “Do you believe any of this?”
Sasaki, flipping the menu over and regarding its back, looked up. “To be honest, I find it all very puzzling. I’m not especially interested in myself, and my desires are on the weak side. I think I’d prefer not to be elevated or worshipped. I tend to take a back seat in team sports, and I usually try to live my life so as not to cause other people trouble. What I hate most of all are self-centered, pushy people, but I also hate myself when I let that kind of person get to me.”
Sasaki raised her hand in order to get the waitress’s attention.
“By the way, since we haven’t ordered yet, have you all decided?”
Her mischievous smile was just like it had been in middle school.
The only person who spoke to the waitress, who wore a simple apron over her street clothes, was Sasaki, who said, “Four hot coffees.”
Fujiwara the time traveler and Kuyoh the alien took no action, the former only sniffing and the latter giving the impression of being immersed in an eternal silence, which was enough to make me wonder what kind of impression we were giving off. Even being optimistic, it seemed unlikely that we were being seen as a group of regular high school students and their friend. Compared to them, the SOS Brigade was practically normal.
It was Kyoko Tachibana who’d taken the first initiative to speak, and she again broke the silence. “So, that is how it is. You’ve heard the story from Koizumi, right? That about four years ago, Suzumiya probably created the world. She has strange power but is completely unaware of it, and she subconsciously creates closed space. Koizumi and his kind awoke, created the Agency, and have continued until now. Suzumiya continued granting her own wishes, summoning aliens and time travelers. But I, along with my friends, believe that this power truly belongs with Sasaki.”
She was free to believe whatever she wanted. There were no limits to the mind, after all. However, turning those ideas into reality was another matter entirely. This was a country with laws, and kidnapping was a crime.
I told them as much, and Kyoko Tachibana bowed her head.
“I apologize for that. But it was clear from the beginning that it would not work, since it involved forceful intervention from the future. I just wanted to try. I had no intention of succeeding. And yet I don’t feel it was a waste, since it conveyed our existence to you. That was a big step.”
If I were the moon, I’d probably have wondered why they were leaving weird footprints all over me.
“Four years ago,” said Kyoko Tachibana, as though she were recapping a TV show from the previous day to a friend, “I suddenly realized that I possessed some kind of power. I’d never felt that way before. It just came to me. I didn’t know the reason, and I didn’t know why it was me and not somebody else. What I did know was that I wasn’t alone, that there were others like me, and that the cause was a single person.”
Her shining eyes glanced next to me.
“And that was Sasaki. Before I even thought about it, I knew you were the one who gave this to me. I immediately started searching for you, and in the process met my comrades. All of whom had the same duty as me.”
I remembered the group of kidnappers that got out of the minivan.
“As we were debating whether to make contact with Sasaki, and if so, how to do it, we suddenly thought, ‘Huh?’—because another organization seemed to have been formed, one very similar to ours. And yet they seemed to be concentrating on another person instead of Sasaki.”
And that would be the Agency, eh?
“Yes. The ones who believe Suzumiya to be a god. We were conflicted. We thought they were mistaken. In order to correct their mistake, we met several times. But they said we were wrong, and they refused to listen to us. We could not accept that, and of course they couldn’t either. Communication broke down…” Kyoko Tachibana looked off into the distance but soon brought her gaze back to the present. “And has never been reestablished.”
“So?” I said. What else could I say? “What do you want to do?”
The representative of the Agency’s rival organization took a deep breath.
“We believe the power Haruhi Suzumiya currently has rightfully belongs to Sasaki. Somehow there was a mistake, and they became different people. We want them restored. It would set the world moving in a better direction.”
She looked right at me.
“And I want your cooperation.”
“Sasaki,” I said, breaking from Kyoko Tachibana’s gaze. “So that’s what she says, but what do you think?”
“I don’t want this strange power,” said Sasaki clearly. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, on top of being an introvert, I’m a below-average individual. If I were given these fantastic, incomprehensible powers, they would only wither. It would definitely cause me mental instability. Yes, I very much wish to abstain.”
“You heard her,” I said. “The girl herself just said it. You might as well give up.”
“Are you really okay with that?” pressed Kyoko Tachibana. “Do you want to let Haruhi Suzumiya have that power? Forever? Do you want to be constantly manipulated by her? Do you understand that this is not just about you? The entire world will be under her control.”
That persuasive, urgent gaze remained on Sasaki.
“I want to say this to you too, Sasaki. You are more qualified than Suzumiya. This much is certain. This is not something you need to worry about. You need only remain as you are, living as you always have. I know this. You would never warp the world. And I know people who can.”
Sasaki’s gaze fell upon me. “Is that true?” she asked, a subtle smile on her face—the same smile I’d seen countless times in middle school.
My head was starting to hurt. I knew that Kyoko Tachibana was being entirely sincere. I understood all too well what she was trying to say.
Haruhi was like a time bomb without a countdown display, set to a random amount of time such that nobody could predict when it would explode. The explosion’s power, too, was unpredictable. The idea that such a person would possess the power to remake the world according to her whim—without the forbearance of Christ or the Buddha, no one could ever approve of such a thing.
But this was only if you didn’t know Haruhi well.
I knew her, and Koizumi, Nagato, and Asahina knew her too. But these people did not. That was all there was to it. It was a simple thing to explain.
I faced Kyoko Tachibana again.
“I understand what you’re saying, but what do you propose to do? No matter how you think about it, Haruhi has the ability to ignore probability—which can be troublesome, but in any case it’s clear enough that she has the ability to make her wishes into reality. Like making cherry blossoms bloom in autumn. But Sasaki doesn’t, right? So isn’t that a stalemate? No matter how much you insist that Sasaki is the true deity, that doesn’t change reality.”
Haruhi didn’t let her mind drift too close to the borderline, generally. You could call it a kind of common sense. The most she did was fix the lotteries to make sure I always wound up in the lowliest brigade position. She seemed to like the world the way it was, and she wasn’t going to pointlessly destroy it. As far as closed space and <Celestials> went, they were a nice way for Koizumi to earn some pocket change but nothing to worry about past that.
“I suppose so,” said Kyoko Tachibana with a sad expression. “I suppose so, but I can’t help feeling that Sasaki is more suitable. You may know Suzumiya, but the same is true for Sasaki. And you’ve spent about the same amount of time with each of them.”
It was true that my last year of middle school and my first year of high school represented similar lengths of time. But the density was different. I hadn’t formed a ridiculous brigade with Sasaki and gone around killing time outside of school, and as far as the amount of conversation we’d exchanged, Haruhi won in a knockout. She was always behind me in class and had bossed me around in the literature club room every day since the brigade’s founding. Furthermore, during the year I’d spent with Haruhi and the SOS Brigade, I’d had no contact with Sasaki. No matter how much I valued my friendship with my old classmate, I couldn’t just throw away my current circle. It wasn’t just Haruhi—I’d come to rely on Nagato, Asahina, and Koizumi as well, and I had done them favors too. For their sakes, I couldn’t switch allegiances from Haruhi to someone else, nor did I want to.
The last thing I thought of was that even if Haruhi was a walking indeterminate time bomb, I wasn’t going to abandon her. I hadn’t even played my trump card on her yet. What could possibly be cooler than a dire situation?
“That puts Sasaki in a bad position too,” I said. “You should back off for your own good. Forget about Koizumi—if you do something to make Nagato angry, you could set off a chain reaction that puts Haruhi into a rage. And then who knows what will happen?”
“That’s why we must. I want to make sure that Haruhi never uses her transformative powers—then you’d never have anything to worry about either.”
Kyoko Tachibana clasped her hands together as though praying.
“We’re not doing this for our own benefit. Just look at Koizumi—keeping up with Suzumiya is extremely difficult. But with Sasaki, all that would go away. It’s what I wish for with all of my heart—for stability in the world.”
“Even so…” Sasaki sighed softly, then looked in the direction of the counter. “Our hot coffee sure is taking a while.” She nudged her glass of water with a finger. “Hey, Kyon, I was just thinking. How come with the words ‘elementary school student,’ ‘middle school student,’ ‘high school student,’ and ‘college student,’ only ‘high school student’ is written differently in Japanese? It seems like something worth thinking about.”
“Sasaki!” Kyoko Tachibana raised her voice impatiently, then soon looked down, embarrassed at her own outburst. She looked genuinely disheartened, and I could sympathize a bit. It wasn’t her fault. Maybe I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but Sasaki was a really solid person, despite being one of my friends. She wasn’t enough of a fool to jump at the chance to become a god.
Hey, I was starting to feel relaxed.
So long as Sasaki was Sasaki, no matter what enemies confronted her, she would not give in. Kyoko Tachibana had chosen the wrong person. Sasaki just wasn’t the type.
I pointed at the other two who’d thus far only listened—Fujiwara and Kuyoh. “What do these two think? I know you’ve got Sasaki made out as some kind of god, but what about your pals? Have you reached a consensus?”
Naturally the reason I asked this way is because from the look on the two weirdos’ faces, Kyoko Tachibana’s reasoning hadn’t really gotten to them. Fujiwara was just staring, annoyed, at his chilled cup, while Kuyoh gazed out into space at nothing in particular.
The despondent Kyoko Tachibana peered out from between the gaps in her hair, and seeing the unmoved alien and time traveler, slumped even farther.
“You’re right. This is another bottleneck. They’re not the least bit cooperative.”
Fujiwara sniffed derisively at Kyoko Tachibana’s sad tone. “Of course not. Cooperation? I haven’t fallen so far as to have to cooperate with commoners from the past. I came here thinking there might be something to be gained, but it looks like not.”
He continued in a voice that made me feel like if Kyoko Tachibana were to get angry, I’d be on her side. “It doesn’t matter who it is. Whether it be Suzumiya or Sasaki, if we think of them as natural phenomena, they’re the same. There’s not much value in an individual human. The power to warp time, the power to change space—that’s all we need to observe. So long as the power exists, it doesn’t matter whose it is.” Fujiwara’s gaze landed on Kuyoh. “You think so too, right?”
Kuyoh gave the time traveler no reaction. Her voluminous hair did not so much as stir in reaction to the café’s air conditioning, and she was simply, incredibly still and unresponsive. I got the sense that she had no idea where she was. Or rather—was she even really in front of me? Even though she was right there before my eyes, her sense of substance was so rarefied as to be near zero. She had no thickness—even a plywood cutout would’ve had more life in it.
Just as silence was once again descending over the table—
“Hmph! Honestly!” Kyoko Tachibana looked up and spoke suddenly. “Give me your hand,” she said, her eyes serious. “It’ll be faster if I just let you experience it instead of trying to explain it. Then you’ll understand what I’m trying to say. Just for a moment, give me your hand.”
She stretched her flawless hands out to mine, as though she were offering to read my palms. Just as I was wondering whether I should take them, given that I wasn’t drowning, Sasaki elbowed me. “Kyon, just do what Tachibana asks, will you?”
I held out my right hand. Kyoko Tachibana’s soft fingers grasped my palm, and she made another request. “Please close your eyes. This will only take a moment.”
Feeling a sense of déjà vu, I did as I was told. My lightly closed eyes could still detect ambient light, and thanks to the lack of visual information, my ears were more sensitive, picking up the easy-listening classical music in the café. I think it might have been Brahms.
But—
“You can open your eyes now.”
Kyoko Tachibana’s signal corresponded exactly to the sudden disappearance of the background music.
I opened my eyes.
Kyoko Tachibana was holding my hands and smiling. Only Kyoko Tachibana.
I was surrounded by an overwhelming stillness. Sasaki, Kuyoh, and Fujiwara were gone. The other customers and café staff had disappeared. Like they’d been spirited away en masse, like the crew of the Mary Celeste, in the blink of an eye everyone was gone.
Kyoko Tachibana and I sat at the same table for a few moments, our hands still joined.
“Wha…”
My eyes roamed. The café with its soft ambient lighting was a mere husk of itself, with only us left behind. Before I could ask what was going on, I felt a sensation I’d felt before and remembered exactly what it was. A different place, but one that felt similar—also with no people.
“That’s what Koizumi calls it, yes.” Kyoko Tachibana let go of my hands, then stood. “There’s not much to see, but would you like to take a look outside?”
Like a fish given water, Kyoko Tachibana took a graceful step and invited me up.
Nothing would happen so long as I kept sitting there. It had been quite a while since I’d visited closed space, and now that I thought about it, I’d only done it twice before—the first time with Koizumi and the second time with Haruhi. This was my third visit, and it felt similar to that cab ride with Koizumi.
I stood next to Kyoko Tachibana and watched the automatic door slide open. This was the same as before. For whatever reason, electricity seemed to work in this world.
Once outside, the first thing I did was look up at the sky. The rain had stopped. No—there weren’t any clouds. The sky was a sepia monotone. There did not seem to be a sun. The sky itself was the source of the light. The whole world was suffused with a sleepy glow.
“Let’s walk for a bit.” Kyoko Tachibana started walking, and I followed obediently along.
The town was a perfect no-man’s-land. Despite being shown this ghost town, I wasn’t particularly shocked. It was all exactly as Koizumi had previously explained to me.
The difference was—
The space I’d been drawn into twice before was completely gray-toned. Perhaps because it was nighttime, but I remember the dark, gloomy scenery quite vividly.
But the colors here were different. The world was lit in the soft, warm tones of oxford white and cream, seemingly brighter than the closed space of my memory.
There was another big difference. I moved my gaze through a full 360-degree rotation, and there was something I failed to see. Even though there was no way one could miss those giant, eerie forms.
“Heh,” said Kyoko Tachibana, looking back at me. “That’s right. We don’t have those here. We never have. That’s the best part about this place. It’s quite nice, don’t you think?”
The blue-white giants, the masses of destructive energy, the instruments of Haruhi’s subconscious.
There were no <Celestials>. There was no sign that they would appear either. My five senses told me that much. In this closed space, there was nothing to threaten the world.
“Is this not closed space?”
“Oh, it is. The same kind you know,” said Kyoko Tachibana, seemingly pleased to be able to tell me. “But a different person made it. This is not a world constructed by Haruhi Suzumiya.”
Who besides her could create something like this…? Wait, not—
“That’s right. Sasaki. This is Sasaki’s closed space. Although it doesn’t feel closed to us at all. It’s like different people making the same dish. The flavor is a reflection of the individual.” She sounded like a real-estate agent introducing a property. “I feel calm when I’m here. It’s very peaceful and has a gentle atmosphere, doesn’t it? What do you think? Which closed space makes you feel safer?”
“Now wait just a minute.” If we were talking about which place I’d rather live in, the answer was neither. “You said Sasaki created this place? For what reason? When? Why aren’t there any <Celestials>? What does this world exist for?”
“There is no reason,” she said casually. “This world isn’t a temporary container or model. It’s always like this and has been from the beginning. Yes, for four years now. The reason there are no <Celestials> is because there’s no need for them. There’s no need to destroy anything.”
No matter how much I looked, I couldn’t see any birds in the sky. The silence was so keen it almost hurt my ears.
“That’s a huge difference. Sasaki has no desire to destroy or remake the world. She is, both subconsciously and consciously, totally stable. She’s ideal. She’ll never flip the world upside down because she doesn’t like it anymore. Everything will stay as it is.”
The only thing I could hear was the girl’s polite voice.
“So I will ask you again: which is better? A god who could carelessly destroy the world, or a person with common sense who won’t do anything rash?”
Unreasonably, I wanted to defend her. Haruhi had common sense too. She might seem to have a screw loose sometimes, but closer inspection showed that she was just an ordinary girl. I don’t know about the past, but the current Haruhi was getting closer and closer to reality. She still sometimes got a little out of hand, but she wasn’t going to make UFOs rain from the sky or anything.
The one thing I could say for certain was that she wasn’t going to remake the world ever again.
“You sound quite confident. I don’t think anyone knows what Haruhi’s subconscious is doing. Not Koizumi, and not the time traveler.”
Clasping her hands behind her, Kyoko Tachibana turned on her heel and looked me in the eye.
“I don’t know either, which is why I’m worried. But Sasaki is safe. You can tell just by looking around, can’t you? There’s nothing unstable about this place.” Her cheerful smile included a generous helping of charm. “That’s why I think Sasaki is the rightful owner of this power. I think it was meant to be hers. I think Suzumiya only became the way she is because of some kind of mistake.”
Haruhi’s still unexplained transformative power. It allowed Koizumi to become a scarlet ball of energy, attracted the attention of cosmic consciousnesses, and according to Asahina was at the center of a severe time-quake.
And if it had been given to Sasaki? What would have become of the SOS Brigade?
I couldn’t imagine it.
I shook my head to clear it of the pointless notion.
“So,” I said, my voice finally recovered, “what do you want me to do about it? Transfer Haruhi’s power to Sasaki? That’s totally impossible.”
Kyoko Tachibana looked at me seriously for a while, then giggled. “Not necessarily. If you cooperate, it can be done. If you and Sasaki both say you’ll do it. That’s all we want. Simple, isn’t it?”
She hopped one step backward.
“Let’s go back to the café. My business here is done, since I expect you’ll want some time to think.”
Come to think of it, what had happened to us? We were sitting in the café but had gotten up and left—what would that look like to Sasaki and the others?
I was going to ask, but Kyoko Tachibana was already striding back to where we’d come from. Upon reflection, a guy and a girl alone together in a world with no one else was a bit of a problem. This was no time to be thinking about that, though, and I didn’t want to stay here very long. It was too quiet. If there were some <Celestials> around, the movement would provide a bit of a distraction from the quiet. What was I thinking? Was I actually getting nostalgic about those things? What was wrong with me?
A few seconds after the girl’s form was swallowed by the café’s automatic door, mine was likewise absorbed.
“Hurry, sit.” Kyoko Tachibana sat at her original space in the center of the trio and placed her hands on the table. I sat back down in my seat, where my body heat still lingered.
“Close your eyes and put your hands out.”
I wondered what I would see if I left my eyes open, but I closed them and put my hands over hers. I listened carefully.
Kyoko Tachibana put a slight degree of strength in her grip—
—and then suddenly pulled her hands away. That instant, my sense of hearing returned. No—rather the world around me had been restored.
The Brahms Muzak, the quiet sound of the falling rain, the scent of roasted coffee beans, and the feeling of people all around me—these things all flooded my five senses. I opened my eyes.
Sasaki raised one eyebrow. “Hey. Welcome back… I guess?”
When I looked, I saw Fujiwara feigning ignorance, supporting his chin with both elbows on the table, with Kuyoh’s dazed face showing no reaction at all. Between them was Kyoko Tachibana, who was in the middle of quenching her thirst with some ice water. I hit Sasaki with my question.
“What was I doing just now?”
“Nothing in particular,” she said, glancing at the small watch she wore on her wrist. “You had your eyes closed and were touching Tachibana for maybe ten seconds.” She put her finger to her lips thoughtfully. “So, did you see it? My supposed interior world?”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. Assuming it hadn’t been an illusion, I could say I’d been there and back. Although how that had happened in the space of ten seconds with neither Tachibana nor me disappearing from Sasaki’s view was a total mystery to me.
“Any thoughts?”
“Nope.”
“I thought not,” said Sasaki, chuckling. “It’s so embarrassing, like you looked into my mind.”
“Please, Sasaki,” said Kyoko Tachibana, setting down her glass. “The truth is you really are the best-suited person for this. Won’t you please try to think positively about it?”
“Hmm. I wonder.” Sasaki cocked her head slightly, then looked aside to me. “Kyon, what do you think? Is this weird power something I should have?”
This wasn’t the kind of thing you made a list of pros and cons to decide, and anyway, why was she asking me?
If I had to just make a guess based on my impression, even if she had that bizarre cosmic power, she probably would use it just because she was upset about the score of a baseball game, or make the events of a movie transpire in real life, or make August repeat endlessly, or have us dig up paranormal artifacts. At the same time, she probably wouldn’t put on a bunny suit and perform onstage in a rock band in place of an injured upperclassman.
But no, none of that mattered. It wasn’t a matter of what Sasaki would or wouldn’t do.
I feigned nonchalance and looked across the table.
Fujiwara the time traveler. And the other two.
The idea of getting along with them—well, let’s just say that even jokes have limits. The time traveler had spit on Asahina’s name, another had kidnapped her, and the third had trapped us all on a snowy mountain and caused Nagato to faint.
I wasn’t even going to consider it. As much as I wanted to stay friends with Sasaki, if I teamed up with them, my body would immediately exhaust its supply of tranquility and would plunge right into negative numbers.
Just as I took a deep breath in order to make that totally clear—
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The waitress approached our table with four cups, just as I was about to speak.
I paused my statement, and the rest of the people at the table did likewise. This sort of pause happened during normal conversations too, but I definitely didn’t want anyone overhearing what we were talking about and thinking I was flat-out crazy.
In the oppressive silence, the sound of cups rattling against saucers as they were set down was strangely prominent. One was placed in front of Sasaki, then me, then Kyoko Tachibana, then Kuyoh—
Snap!
Before my very eyes there transpired a startling development.
Kuyoh had been motionless up until that moment, when she grabbed the waitress by the wrist.
I didn’t even catch her arm movement; I didn’t even detect any hint of motion, but she held the waitress’s wrist firmly, preventing her from setting the saucer and cup down on the table.
Kuyoh was still motionless and facing forward; no part of her body save her arm had moved.
Even more surprising was that the waitress should have spilled the cup she was holding, but she’d managed not to slosh even a drop out of it. Given the rather impressive force that resulted from the initial wrist-grab, there had definitely been enough impact to spill the coffee.
So why—?
I soon understood.
“May I help you?” The waitress smiled mildly; she didn’t seem the least bit troubled. If anybody else had happened to see it, they’d think her smile was perfectly normal. But it gave me a terrible chill down my spine, and not for no reason. I knew the waitress’s face quite well.
“Kimidori…” I murmured in spite of myself. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello.”
Emiri Kimidori greeted me with a smile as though she were an upperclassman who’d just happened to run into one of her younger classmates—which was exactly what had happened. Her unfazed tone was completely unlike the reality of the situation, which was that a mysterious alien was currently grabbing the wrist of a humanoid interface. I didn’t particularly want to experience Kuyoh’s grip strength for myself, but it appeared stronger than average. Kuyoh paid the stunned Sasaki and Kyoko Tachibana no mind, and with superhuman precision was utterly still—school uniform included.
Displaying an unreal level of calm, Kimidori spoke. “Excuse me, miss,” she said to the silent Kuyoh-object, “might I ask you to let me go? I cannot finish serving your order.”
“—”
The unblinking, goldfish-like eyes were, to be frank, not looking anywhere.
“Miss,” said Kimidori in a serene voice. “If you please. You understand, don’t you, what I am saying…”
I wondered if I was the only one who heard the crack that came from the space between them, like a log splitting in a bonfire.
“—”
Kuyoh slowly loosened her grip. Her fingers opened one by one like inchworms, and once she had fully released Kimidori’s arm, Kuyoh returned her hand to her lap.
“Thank you very much,” said Kimidori politely, still holding the coffee cups, and placing one in front of Kuyoh. As Kuyoh returned to maintaining her tin-soldier countenance, I sighed in relief.
“What are you doing here, Kimidori?” I asked her.
“It’s my part-time job.”
I could tell that by looking. Why would someone besides a waitress put on an apron and serve coffee? I wanted to know why she’d suddenly gotten a job—I was more interested in the answer to that question than I was in the location of the Romanov dynasty’s hidden gold bullion.
But Kimidori simply left the check on the table, whispering to me as she did so. “Please don’t tell the student council president about this. Students on the council aren’t allowed to have part-time jobs.”
But she didn’t care if Nagato knew? No, wait, that wasn’t the important thing.
“Enjoy your coffee,” she said, leaving our conversation unresolved as she took the tray and retreated. She seemed used to the work, as though she’d been doing it for three years. Had it always been her bringing us our water and taking our orders? Had we never noticed because crowd psychology had made her invisible to us, or had she used some kind of space-alien power on us? My guess was the latter. If Kuyoh could do that, it seemed likely that Kimidori could too.
“Who was that?” Sasaki asked.
“A senior at my school,” was all I could answer, as I compared Kuyoh’s conspicuous-yet-totally-unnoticed appearance with Kimidori’s, as she efficiently brought water to a customer who’d just arrived.
“Heh,” came a strangely stifled laugh from Fujiwara. “Hah. Now this’s something worth seeing. What a farce. You sure don’t see this every day,” he said, with a tone drenched in irony.
I wanted to dump my hot coffee on his head, but the time traveler seemed to be genuinely amused. His body shook with stifled laughter, as though if I hadn’t been there he would’ve been guffawing heartily.
Kyoko Tachibana’s expression shifted gradually from shock to resignation, shrugging as though openly admitting she couldn’t keep up with these events. Sasaki and I looked to each other, both of us wordlessly asking the other what Fujiwara had meant, but of course neither of us had any idea. Kuyoh’s pale face was faintly obscured by the steam rising from her cup.
Thanks to the sudden intrusion of Kimidori the unexpected part-timer, the trio of standard high schoolers (including me and excluding Kuyoh and Fujiwara) was totally dumbfounded, while the time traveler laughed like he was remembering something uncomfortable, and the android remained as quiet as a broken crystal radio, not touching her coffee. Just as I was thinking I was sick of this—
“—”
Without any warning, Kuyoh stood and walked smoothly toward the automatic door, moving more silently than a high-level ninja master. Despite the fact that people didn’t notice her, the door’s sensor did, and it opened. Kuyoh retrieved her convenience store umbrella and was gone. Perhaps she’d sensed the shift in mood among us. But what had she come along to accomplish?
“I should be going too,” said Kyoko Tachibana with a weak smile. “I wanted to talk a bit more, but I’m rather tired. Sasaki, I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and please leave the check to me. It’s fine. Thank you for coming.”
She spoke firmly, then stood and headed for the cashier. “A receipt too, please. And leave the name blank,” she said, finishing paying and heading out into the rain with her umbrella after giving us a small wave.
As I wanted at the very least to stop being mocked by the time traveler, I decided to take my leave. I needed to get back to my bedroom for a nap with Shamisen.
“See you later, Sasaki.”
“Sure,” said Sasaki solemnly. “I think I’ll be contacting you soon. I know it’ll be a bother. But Kyon, I honestly don’t want to drag this out too long. The next national mock exam is coming up, so we’ve got to settle things quickly.”
“You got that right,” I agreed heartily. She was every bit the Sasaki I knew from middle school.
Fujiwara had regained his arrogant expression as he listened to our conversation, but in the end said nothing, nor did he do anything to irritate me. While it felt as though Kimidori had shown up just to shock me, I could imagine that her goal had actually been to observe Kuyoh. If it had been Nagato facing Kuyoh, it seemed unlikely they could have accommodated each other, and I was just happy Asakura hadn’t come back to life. Even given my ridiculous life, I absolutely drew the line at getting stabbed again.
Having thus left the café, I don’t know what Sasaki and Fujiwara talked about.
And I didn’t want to know. Not then.