If you tried to throw the straight-on fastball at a girl like that, she’d just smash a line drive foul into your dugout—basically, it was pointless, or so the student council must have concluded when they’d decided to lay their indirect siege.
Which they did by attacking the third-floor clubroom of the literature club, which the SOS Brigade was illegally occupying.
If the literature club could be summoned and brought to task, then the SOS Brigade’s residence would automatically disappear. The only reason we were allowed to use the clubroom was because the sole real literature club member had said, “It’s fine,” and Nagato was probably the only person who would’ve said so when asked if her clubroom could be borrowed.
If the literature club was dissolved, Nagato would cease to be a member, and her days of quietly reading in the room would be over, and the five of us would no longer have anywhere to go after school.
It was a magnificent tactic. I was impressed. The worst part was no matter what we did, Nagato became both victim and coconspirator.
I knew how weak our position was, which gave me no way to formulate a counterargument. Haruhi would’ve done it anyway, and all I could do was wonder if the president knew that, but in any case it made summoning Nagato the obvious course of action.
Nagato, meanwhile, seemed to be reaching her limit.
“…”
The silent pressure emanating from the petite, school-uniformed figure was tangibly filling the room. I wondered what would happen if we just let her go. I doubted the world would be rewritten, but I could imagine the student council president with his memory erased, being controlled like a puppet. Or perhaps she’d do what she did after the Asakura debacle, using data manipulation to transform both the president and the clubroom into something completely different. When Yuki Nagato went on a rampage, there was no telling what could happen. I was inescapably reminded of last fall’s contest against the computer club.
The president took a step back and posed in front of the setting sun. Just as I was nervously thinking about telling him just how much trouble he’d gotten himself into—
“…”
Silent as ever, the invisible feeling of menace disappeared.
“Hmm?”
The aura I (thought I had) detected from Nagato had vanished, as though it had never been there. I couldn’t help but glance at Nagato, whose unblinking gaze had shifted from the president to a different individual.
I followed her eyes.
The presumably second-year girl whose pencil had been moving as she’d taken notes during the meeting slowly looked up from her writing.
“… Huh?” I said stupidly.
I immediately wondered why she was here, then realized I couldn’t remember her name. It had been last summer. A strange incident that happened a bit after Tanabata. I’d never forget what I’d seen, but in the end it hadn’t really mattered…
“Is something the matter?” the president asked haughtily. “Ah, I haven’t introduced you. This is the student council’s top officer, and she’s taking notes for me today—”
The girl’s hair shifted slightly as she bowed.
“—Miss Emiri Kimidori.”
The massive cave cricket came thundering back into my mind.
“Kimidori?”
This girl who’d gotten involved in a truly ridiculous chain of events that had started with the SOS Brigade website, then moved on into investigating the disappearance of the computer club president, and finally ended up in a different dimension, was now seated in a corner of the student council room, looking at us as though she didn’t recognize us at all.
Kimidori smiled pleasantly, shifting her gaze from me to Nagato. I got the feeling that her eyes narrowed just a bit—and that she and Nagato had exchanged some kind of sign. I even thought I noticed Nagato give a tiny, reluctant nod.
What was this? Had some kind of telepathic signal passed between the two of them?
The more I thought about it, the stranger that incident seemed. Kimidori had claimed to be the computer club president’s girlfriend, but then the president himself had told us he didn’t even have a girlfriend. So as to the question of what reasoning had led Kimidori to turn to the SOS Brigade for counseling, I’d just assumed it had been Nagato’s doing. But now bumping into her again and seeing her exchange looks with Nagato—I couldn’t imagine it was a coincidence.
I was as terrified as a young Slavic soldier hearing the sounds of a squadron of Luftwaffe dive-bombers.
Wham—!
From behind me echoed a sudden noise, like a balloon bursting. My heart attempted to leap free of the confines of my rib cage and leave me behind—
“Hey!”
There was no mistaking the hundred-decibel voice that sounded its war cry through the now-open door of the student council room. The voice continued at its eardrum-rattling volume.
“What does this pathetic excuse for a student council think it’s doing, locking up my three faithful servants in a room like this? I figured you’d get around to doing something sooner or later, but if it was going to be this interesting, you should’ve just come straight to me! And what’s this? Don’t tell me you’re giving Yuki a hard time. Kyon would be one thing, but there’s no way you’re getting away with hurting Yuki! I’ll beat the stuffing out of you and toss you right out the window!”
Yes, indeed, there was but one individual who could come breaking in there like a mother cat whose kittens have been threatened.
I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but I wanted to see the look on her face. Yup, it was her, looking even livelier than usual, elation practically radiating off her at having found something so interesting.
“You can’t keep me out of this, you know. I’m the supreme leader of the SOS Brigade!” Haruhi boasted. A moment later, her eyes alighted upon the level’s final boss. Her pupils, shining with the force of whole galactic clusters, took in the shape of the lanky, bespectacled boy. “So you’re the student council president? Very well, I accept your challenge. It’s president vs. brigade chief, so the fight money’s even. No objections, right?”
Then she turned to me, as though to take me to task for harboring such pointless questions as how she’d even found out we were here. “And you, Kyon! Don’t tell me you’re just going to shut up and let this happen. Don’t hold back just because it’s the student council president. If we all jump him at once, then tie him up, the rest will be cake. I’ll put him in a joint lock, so just get some rope ready!”
Her eyes blazed, brimming with lava that threatened to form a caldera right on the spot.
“…”
In contrast to that, like a front-line commander, Nagato was silently ignoring the sudden and unasked-for reinforcements, still not moving as she observed Kimidori with her dormant-volcano eyes.
Instead of jumping the student council president or scampering off in search of some rope, I simply watched the expression of the person who was facing the brunt of this intruder’s threat.
It was strange. The president’s brow creased as he directed an accusatory glance at the person standing next to me—Koizumi. For some reason I thought I noticed him shake his head slightly. With a pained smile on Koizumi’s face, it seemed the two of them had shared some kind of silent communication, and I suddenly wished I’d never noticed anything at all.
“What are you trying to pull, anyway? If you’re going to call out somebody, call me! Trying to cut the brigade chief out of all this, are you? Some student council you are!”
“Suzumiya, please calm down.” Koizumi casually put his hand on Haruhi’s shoulder. “Let us at least hear the council out. We’re still in the middle of the conversation.”
He—suspiciously—made eye contact with me. Was I supposed to know what the hell to do?
The only thing I knew was that our brigade chief had come to her underlings’ rescue in their time of need.
“Fine, then it’s come to all-out war! I’ll warn you tha
t we’re happy to take on any challenge, any time, any place. Every single member of the SOS Brigade is a valiant warrior, who knows neither fear nor mercy, and you shall receive none till you either weep or kneel!”
I got the feeling that the situation was only going to escalate.
And it was already bad enough, with Tsuruya offering her support in advance, Nagato right on the verge of exploding, and the unexpected and sudden return of Kimidori.
Plus, Koizumi and the student council president were part of the picture too, somehow.
“Kyon, what’re you doing? We’re up against the student council president! It’s the most obvious enemy we’ve ever had! If we’re not going to do battle here, where would we fight? At least give him a harsher look!”
Student council vs. SOS Brigade, huh?
Someone, somewhere, had triggered the switch for this event—a switch I wished they’d ignored. I really hoped it hadn’t been me.
I wondered what was going to happen next as I regarded Haruhi, who was infuriated but also somehow delighted. Whatever it was, the certainty that it wouldn’t be good news swirled within my chest.
“Oh brother,” I muttered under my breath. I’d like to think it was an understandable reaction.
And in fact, the situation turned into the exact opposite of good news.
Haruhi underwent a class switch from “brigade chief” to “editor in chief,” ordering us Brigade members to become authors and write pseudonovels, a task so random and unprecedented it was like a Stinger anti-aircraft missile trying to target a Jupiter Ghost Gundam.
Haruhi was like a short-fused street fighter who’d picked up a letter of challenge meant for somebody else and had come to the fighting arena anyway. “Come on, mister evil student council president! Are you up for a no-holds-barred, no-referee, no-rules, winner-takes-all fight?” she shouted in a high-handed voice, her finger pointed accusatorially at the president, whose back was to the window.
The president didn’t even try to hide his irritated expression. “Miss Suzumiya. I don’t know what sort of techniques you’re accustomed to using in your fights, but I’m not in the habit of walking into a ring my enemy’s prepared for me. The ‘rules’ you’ve proposed are the epitome of barbarism. It is unbecoming. Know this: the student council cannot allow fights on the school grounds, no matter the reason.”
Haruhi’s gaze never left the president’s face. “So what challenge would you have us face? Mah-jongg? You can even bring a pinch hitter to stand in for you; I don’t care. Or maybe you’d prefer a computer game? I’ve got just the game.”
“There will be no mah-jongg and no video games.” The president deliberately removed his glasses, polishing them with a handkerchief before putting them back on. “There will be no challenges at all. I have no time to play along with your games.”
Haruhi began to boldly stride forth, but I held her back with a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on, Haruhi. Who told you we were in here?” I asked.
Haruhi glared at me belligerently. “I heard from Mikuru. She said she’d heard it from Tsuruya. As soon as I’d heard that the student council president had called you guys in, I came right over—Yuki and Koizumi were missing from the clubroom too, after all. I knew right away that the student council was finally making its move. They knew they’d lose if they went up against me, so they attacked our weak spot. Just the kind of cheap move I’d expect from a petty villain.”
The president didn’t move, even when called a “petty villain.” The second-year student seemed more bored than anything else as he looked at Haruhi, then finally voiced another complaint to Koizumi.
“Mr. Koizumi. Perhaps you should explain—explain why it was that I summoned Miss Nagato.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” said Koizumi calmly, his smile chagrined. He did so love explaining things.
“I don’t need any explanations,” said Haruhi, cutting him right off. “You’re just trumping up charges to destroy the literature club, since if Yuki’s not a club member anymore, then we won’t be able to use the room. You probably figured since she’s such a nice, quiet girl you’d be able to just talk circles around her, but I won’t have it. If you’ve got a problem with the SOS Brigade, don’t bother with this sneaky crap—just say it to our faces!”
As she went on, Haruhi’s own words incited her to greater enthusiasm. She went into kicking stance, as though she was preparing for a throw down. And you had to hand it to her—her intuition was excellent. Just as I was thinking that Koizumi would be disappointed at not getting to explain anything—
“Thank you for saving me the time of explaining. That is indeed the situation,” said Koizumi, his facade of serenity unperturbed. “However, we are still in the midst of negotiations. I expect the president has not finished speaking. In any case, forcing an officially sanctioned club like the literature club to suspend its activities immediately, with no grace period, cannot be possible. I don’t believe the student council has the authority to do that. Does it, Mr. President?”
So he had gotten to make his explanation. Just as I was thinking this third-rate melodrama couldn’t get any worse, the president put on his best honor-student-in-a-cheap-melodrama face.
“Naturally, we of the student council do not wish to cause unnecessary conflict. If the literature club were to conduct standard literary activities, we would have no complaints at all. What we find problematic is the fact that there have been no such activities.”
“Does that mean we have an alternative to immediate suspension?” asked Koizumi immediately.
“It is not an alternative; it is a requirement,” said the president huffily. “You must immediately engage in at least one activity befitting the literature club. If you do, we’ll lift the indefinite suspension and approve continued use of the clubroom.”
Haruhi lowered her raised foot, though her voice and demeanor remained confrontational. “So you can see reason, then. Will you approve the SOS Brigade as well? And not just as an informal association—as a true student organization. If you did that, we’d be entitled to our share of an operating budget.”
I recalled that being written in the student handbook. But the student council president was not so foolish as to let a random “Brigade” that wasn’t even an informal association jump two levels overnight. “I know of no such brigade. And I can’t possibly allow said brigade to be recognized as a club, nor portion it any of the school’s meager budget.”
The president folded his arms slowly, unconcerned as he returned Haruhi’s angry glare. There wasn’t so much as a single drop of sweat on him, so he clearly wasn’t bluffing. Where had he found such confidence?
“I’d prefer to hear as little talk about ‘brigades’ as possible. We are discussing the literature club. Whatever unauthorized group you choose to form on your own is none of my concern. The only reason it reached my ears in the first place was because of the disruption in the literature club’s operation. I’d like never to be troubled by it again.”
He should’ve just left us alone then, given that no matter how sneaky and circumspect his methods, it would be only a matter of time before Haruhi came barging into the student council room. She’d do it before the day was out, and she’d be dragging me along by my necktie behind her.
“As for the literature club, obviously not just any activity will do. Using the room for a reading group or for writing book reports on library books—such things belong in elementary school. I will not approve them.”
“So what’re you telling us to do?” Haruhi cocked her head slightly, her eyes still blazing. “Kyon, what does a literature club even do besides reading? Do you know?”
“Beats me” was my honest answer. She’d be better off asking Nagato.
“There is but one requirement,” said the president, ignoring our conversation. “Creating a publication. Past generations of the literature club have all managed to create at least one publication a year, even during times of low membership. We have the records. It is
the most visible activity you can do. The literature club is, quite literally, about the art of literature. Simple reading is not enough.”
Which meant that all this time, Nagato hadn’t been acting like a proper club member. Our little Nagato had only ever read books.
I couldn’t help but shake my head. I didn’t want to think about her troubled, bespectacled face as she sat in front of an obsolete PC. Seeing it in my dreams was enough.
“Any objections?”
The president seemed to have misread my expression. In any case, he looked like he had objections aplenty.
“Bear in mind that this is the most minimal possible concession. By all rights, we should’ve given you notice at the school festival. I’d like you to feel a bit of gratitude at my having waited this long. Of course, anybody else would’ve left you alone indefinitely.”
Nagato aside, I wished he would’ve left Haruhi out of it, I told him.
“That would not have done. I won election to the student council on my promises for school reform. As you know, the previous council was a council in name only, and there was little allowance made for student independence. It simply followed the plans handed down by the school administration. It was an insubstantial organization that did only as it was told.” The president casually tossed off this heated rhetoric. “I aimed to free the council from that position. If the students wished it, the cafeteria menu should be expanded and enriched, the most trivial matters remaining up for discussion—I planned to negotiate with the school to make that a reality.”
I was grateful for this work on the student body’s behalf, but if that were true, why wouldn’t he hear a single student’s desire to have “brigade” added to the official organization list, along with “association” and “club,” I asked him.
“My slogan is ‘Serious reform.’ If I were to publicly acknowledge such a frivolous organization, it would destroy my reputation. I cannot allow it,” said the president, refusing my request. “Your deadline is in one week. One week from today you must present two hundred copies of a literature club newsletter. If you do not, the club will be suspended and the room vacated. I will hear no objections on this matter.”
The Indignation of Haruhi Suzumiya Page 3
