The Intrigues of Haruhi Suzumiya

by Nagaru Tanigawa

  Tsuruya smiled at me cheerfully. She sounded just like a fairy godmother bringing Cinderella a fancy ball gown, but I knew that if I naively took her up on her offer, she’d really give me an earful. I wouldn’t fall into such an obvious trap. Tsuruya knew that too, which was why she’d laid it in the first place.

  “I think I’ll pass; thanks.”

  Tsuruya was smart enough to get my drift. And even if somehow it’d become a reality, if I were to sleep between two older schoolmates like that, I’d be way too nervous to sleep even a little bit. I’d only wind up more exhausted.

  Maybe because of the cold, the little pond turtle had retreated into his shell in one corner of the case, and he stayed there, unmoving. I felt like it would’ve been kinder to leave him in the Tsuruya family’s pond, but I couldn’t very well go against Asahina the Elder’s instructions, though the dilemma still nagged at me.

  “Oh, Kyon?”

  I was let into the apartment, at which point I was greeted by (Michiru) Asahina’s surprised voice. She probably hadn’t expected to see me again so soon after we’d parted ways, but she’d forgotten about the turtle. I presented her with the case.

  “Could you bring this tomorrow?” I asked.

  Consider, if you will, the contents of letter #4: “On Sunday, by 10:50 AM, throw a turtle into the river.” That was going to be the last action Asahina and I would carry out. Since we’d be doing another city patrol tomorrow, it made the most sense to leave the turtle with this Asahina now, since I’d have to meet up with Ha-ruhi and the rest at nine AM, and we’d lose around an hour to eating at the café and drawing lots. If I showed up with a turtle, there’d be no end of questions to answer from Haruhi.

  “Oh, yes. That’s right,” answered Asahina. “You didn’t bring anything to the patrol, I remember.”

  Ahem. I heard a deliberate-sounding cough. It was Tsuruya, preparing tea on the tea table. She closed one eye in a half wink. “Should I take Michiru somewhere else tomorrow?”

  “Would you mind?” I asked.

  Tsuruya smiled. “About that—I’m swamped tomorrow too. I’ve got to show up at this family meeting. But don’t you worry! I’ll have someone from the house drive her. About what time?”

  I asked her to take Asahina to the riverside cherry blossom grove at ten forty-five. Asahina would know the exact place—not even she has such a lousy sense of direction that she’d forget that fateful park bench.

  “Okay, gotcha. Leave it to me! Just use a taxi for the way back, ’kay?” Tsuruya smacked her chest smartly. “I understand why you’re worried, Kyon. I walk around the shopping streets with Mikuru all the time, y’know? She gets hit on every couple hundred meters. Such a pain! I guess it’s her superpower.”

  I figured Tsuruya’s superpower might also have something to do with that.

  “Mikuru just looks so defenseless, though. That’s what worries me. I’d feel a little better if she had a nice boyfriend.”

  That wouldn’t make me feel better at all. I’d spend my days imagining things I didn’t want to imagine, I told her.

  “Ha ha! So what would make you feel better, Kyon m’boy?”

  “Kyon m’boy” couldn’t think of anything that would make him feel better, but Asahina had turned beet red at Tsuruya’s words and was frantically waving her hands. Her strangely ineffable expression must have come from the fact that she was trying to preserve the fiction that she was not Mikuru Asahina, but rather Michiru Asahina. I didn’t really care about that now, and I doubted Tsuruya did either, but Asahina might as well keep her secret. I’d told her to, after all.

  The preparations for tomorrow were pretty much settled. I drank some of the bitter tea Tsuruya had brewed, looking at Asahina. I couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the little turtle, tapping lightly on his case. I wondered how long I should keep her here. At this rate, this Asahina would come to replace Asahina the Younger in this timeline, but was that really safe? Or did I need to find a way to return her to eight days—no, three days now—in the future?

  I thought about the numbers on the letters I’d gotten: #3, #4, and #6. Assuming that counting systems hadn’t changed in the future such that six came after four, that meant letter #5 was still out there somewhere. It just hadn’t reached me yet.

  I’d kept the contents of #6 a secret from this Asahina. There was really nothing I could say about it. It was this:

  “When everything is over, come to the park bench where you and I met on Tanabata.”

  The tea at Tsuruya’s house was fancier than what we usually drank in the clubroom. I was grateful to Tsuruya for not asking unnecessary questions about the turtle I’d brought with me. I watched my two older schoolmates peer into the case as my mind wandered.

  When everything is over— In other words, Asahina traveling eight days into the past was a predetermined event from the perspective of Asahina the Elder. This would all be concluded after not too long.

  You and I—“I” had to mean Asahina the Elder, and not the Younger or Michiru. And Tanabata referred to the Tanabata of four years ago. I’d met the same person there, two different times.

  I pursed my lips, wondering if I should just tell Asahina everything—tell her that it was the future version of her who was leaving these letters in my shoe locker. How far ahead had Asahina the Elder read? Would this all become a predetermined event?

  And how much had this Asahina realized, from the instructions from the future, and from my following them? I’d done nothing but prevaricate. Had that been the right thing to do…?

  I shook my head slightly.

  This wasn’t good. If all I was going to do was come up with bad ideas, I might as well be asleep. This was all thanks to the stuff that jerk had said to Asahina and me. There was no point trying to figure out who was right. That was one of the things Nagato had taught me.

  Nothing could come from agonizing about the future. Your present self was responsible for your future self. That’s why you’d wind up cursing at your past self. At the moment, I was just trying to avoid being cursed by my eventual future self. I didn’t have time to think about it.

  I just had to move.

  Eventually I took my leave of the Tsuruya house and returned home. Shamisen was asleep on my bed, his face the image of serenity. If he was so unconcerned about the world, then the world must be okay. And no matter what happened, I couldn’t imagine him getting insomnia over it.

  “Guess it all happens tomorrow…”

  I’d put an end to all this tomorrow. On day two of Haruhi’s citywide investigation, I’d leave the turtle in the river. That was all I had to do. There wasn’t anything particularly difficult about it. I wouldn’t be digging holes in search of treasure I’d never find, nor taking perfect strangers to the hospital, nor moving random rocks, nor retrieving data storage devices—oh, wait. I still had to deal with that before I forgot about it again.

  I wrote the name and address from letter #3 on the envelope I’d bought at the convenience store, then put the memory chip inside it. I stuck enough stamps on the envelope to get it anywhere in the world, then stashed it back in my coat pocket. Naturally, I didn’t include a return address.

  After I’d dropped it in a post office mailbox, I prayed there wouldn’t be an accident. There was a limit to what I could plan for—I hoped Asahina the Elder realized that.

  I was sure my hopes would be answered. I’d definitely ask her about that—on that Tanabata bench, when everything was over.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The fated Sunday arrived.

  I rode my bike to the station front at nine AM, just as I had the day previous. And just like the previous day, everyone else was already there, so we visited the café on my dime and drew lots, whereupon Nagato and I were once again grouped together. Nagato would never forget anything I said to her. I knew I could trust her. It was a lesson I needed to learn myself, honestly. For Nagato more than anyone, I wanted to keep every promise I made her, even if it killed me. That’s how
much she’d done for me.

  I was mindful of the time we spent at the café, and though Haruhi was even more carefree than she’d been before, I didn’t have time to worry about that. She’d been this way ever since the treasure hunt, so she must have just felt physically unwell during her bad mood early in the month.

  It was strange to see Haruhi grinning and whispering something into Asahina’s ear; whatever she said, it made Asahina smile brightly. I wanted to know what it was, but in any case, Koizumi and Nagato were their usual selves, so it didn’t seem like any cataclysms were imminent.

  I slurped the foam that remained in the bottom of my mostly empty cup of espresso, as Haruhi slid the check over to me and stood up.

  It was ten o’clock on the dot.

  There was plenty of time to walk over to the river.

  We were to meet back up at noon, which gave me more than enough time to go put the turtle in the river and return.

  I watched Haruhi, Koizumi, and Asahina recede into the distance. “Sorry,” I said to Nagato. “Would you mind going to the library on your own? I should be able to come and get you in an hour.”

  “I see,” Nagato answered, drawing her duffle coat’s hood up, which completely hid her head.

  “Nagato, do you know what it is that Asahina and I are doing?”

  “Something necessary,” Nagato murmured as she began to walk down the road that would take her to the library.

  “Necessary for whom?”

  “For you and for Mikuru Asahina.”

  Not for her? Not for Haruhi or Koizumi? I asked.

  “…”

  Nagato continued to silently walk. Eventually I heard her voice from within her hood. “That possibility exists. It is still unclear.”

  From where I stood, I could see her shoulders slacken, whereupon she suddenly turned and fixed my face in her crystalline pupils.

  “However—” Her hair shifted in the wind. “It will become clear soon. In which case, I will move. As will Itsuki Koizumi.”

  Nagato’s short, declarative speaking style had always been that way, ever since I’d met her.

  “Our direction is the same. Mine and yours.”

  Having seemingly reached a conclusion, Nagato turned and began to walk quietly away. This time, I didn’t follow her.

  “Thanks, Nagato.”

  Embarrassment made my voice low. I didn’t know whether the receding hooded figure could hear me or not, but I was certain she understood my feelings. Nagato was certainly clever enough to do that much.

  Along the way, I’d figured something else out—that Nagato, Koizumi, Asahina, and I were all jointly and mutually responsible. In the center shone the brilliant star known as Haruhi, and we were all planets that orbited around her. I didn’t know how long it had been that way, but if Mars or Venus were to suddenly disappear from the night sky, not only would it be rather sad, it would be a big problem for astrologers. And for me. Until we knew with total certainty that Martians and Venusians didn’t exist, I didn’t want them to just up and disappear. There are a lot of things that you take for granted until they’re gone. Like lead for your mechanical pencil, when you’re in the middle of a test. Okay, that was a stupid example. But in any case, I didn’t want to feel the terrible sense of loss I’d felt last December ever again.

  “Nagato’s taught me something again.”

  She’d taught me that the path I should take had been long since decided.

  Half an hour later, I arrived at the riverbank. The abnormal autumnally blooming cherry blossoms were nowhere to be seen; there were only bare brown branches, waiting frigidly for spring’s arrival. As I made my way to the bench, I looked down the river, which was at low ebb. It was a typical raised-bed river, with a distance of maybe three meters between the bank and the surface of the water. Thanks to the prudent construction of the dikes on either side, the river had a tidy feel to it. With only a few centimeters of water in the bottom, the river was low, but it was still very pleasant. Come summer, there would be children chasing wildly after the small fish it contained, but here in the dead of winter none wanted to approach the frigid flow.

  That may or may not have been the reason, but in any case the bench where Asahina had once confessed her true identity as a time traveler was unoccupied. Despite it being Sunday, there weren’t many people who wanted to take a nice riverside walk when it was this cold out, so the tree-lined path was nearly deserted. There was one bored-looking dog being silently walked by its shivering owner, but that was it.

  Just as I was listening to the babble of the flowing water and really playing the part of the lonely high school lad to the hilt, my clever reverie was interrupted.

  “Kyon!”

  Having descended the stairs that led from the roadside, Asahina stepped onto the riverbank. She was indeed carrying the turtle’s container, but had forgotten to wear her flu mask from yesterday—but with her knit cap and shawl, she still gave off a very different impression from the usual Asahina look, so I supposed it was all right. This would be the last day, anyway.

  Asahina faced me and waved, then looked back over her shoulder at the road. When I looked, I saw what must have been the car from the Tsuruya estate driving away—it was a fancy domestic auto, every inch the wealthy family’s second car. We’d have to make sure to thank the driver.

  It was ten forty-four AM. Once I walked to the river’s edge with Asahina, it was ten forty-five. Perfect timing.

  “The water looks so cold…” Asahina looked down at the lazily flowing river, then held the case that contained the turtle up to her eye level. “I wonder if the turtle will be able to grow up healthy.” My petite older classmate showed kindness to even the smallest animal. “Wait just a moment.”

  She placed the case on the ground and opened the lid, then produced the box of feed from her coat pocket. The pond turtle craned his neck up toward the suddenly vanished roof, and when Asahina brought the feed closer, it gulped the treat down in a single bite. It had gotten quite fond of her in just a single night. That was Asahina for you.

  I felt bad separating the two of them, but soon the time would be upon us. There were only three minutes to go until ten fifty.

  “We’ll come again in spring,” I said soothingly, as I picked up the pond turtle. Unconcerned, the turtle sat quietly in the palm of my hand. “I’m sure we’ll be able to see him again once he’s gotten bigger.”

  It was all I could say, though I had no reason to believe it was true. I shook off Asahina’s worried gaze, wound up for the throw. Just as I leaned back in preparation for my underhand toss—

  “Excuse me!”

  I heard a sudden voice from behind me and nearly wound up tumbling into the river, still holding the turtle. I tottered and stumbled, but managed to steady myself on dry ground, whereupon I immediately turned around.

  “Thank you very much for helping me!”

  It was a young boy wearing glasses, his voice youthful and his head politely bowed. It was the same boy I’d saved from being killed in a traffic accident a month earlier, and nearby whom Haruhi lived and occasionally served as his tutor.

  “Ah…”

  Asahina seemed surprised; I certainly was. I never thought we’d meet again.

  “What are you doing?” The boy’s features were very different from my sister’s—sharp and intelligent. He looked at Asahina and me, and at the turtle I held. Just as I was about to tell him that that was a question we should be asking him—

  “I’m on my way to cram school,” he said clearly, before I even had the chance to ask. He indicated the book bag over his shoulder. “I always come this way. That’s what I was doing that day too.”

  He bowed again, then looked confusedly down at the case on the ground, then at the now struggling shelled reptile in my hand.

  “Are you going to let that turtle go?”

  “Uh, yeah…” I answered, feeling freshly guilty. Both Asahina and the boy seemed to overflow with sympathy for the turtle as they
looked at it. I felt their wordless appeal—Why do you have to throw this poor little turtle into a freezing river? But there wasn’t anything I could do. I had to do this.

  My watch indicated one minute to go. I couldn’t just stand here doing nothing. I racked my slow-witted brain for some kind of solution.

  “Hey, kid, are pets allowed in your house? I mean—would your parents be okay if you came home with this little guy?”

  The boy pushed his glasses up. “I think so. If I took care of him, I mean.”

  “I see. Hang on a sec.”

  Still holding the turtle by his back, I crouched down beside the river. With three meters separating the riverbank where we were from the water’s surface, the distance wasn’t too far. The current was weak, so I wouldn’t lose sight of the turtle.

  I gave the turtle a gentle toss—like tossing a feather, trying to keep the impact from being too forceful.

  The turtle fell into the river with a plop, leaving behind a series of concentric ripples that moved lazily downriver.

  The boy watched the scene as though holding his breath.

  Having sunk, the turtle seemed to kick off the river bottom, then stuck his head out. He almost looked bewildered at the ripples he was causing as he floated along. After a short time, he started swimming, and finally he climbed atop a rock and stuck his neck out. He didn’t really seem like he was saying good-bye to us—more likely he was marveling in his turtle-ish way at his suddenly expanded world.

  The ripples he made were washed away, but the turtle remained.

  I didn’t know what Asahina the Elder had anticipated, but her instructions only went as far as throwing the turtle in the river. Which meant that once I’d done that, I could do whatever I wanted with the turtle after that. That’s what I kept telling myself as I removed my shoes and socks. Once I’d rolled up the legs of my pants, I was ready to go, and as Asahina and the boy watched wide-eyed, I climbed down from the bank. The water was just as cold as it looked, and the bottom was coated in some kind of slimy, mossy substance that did not feel good, but I’d played in many a stream with my cousins in the countryside when I was little, so this was nothing.