Whatever Happened to the Girl with the Yellow Ribbon in her Hair?
The following is a fan fiction based on Haruhi Suzumiya written by Nagara Tanigaru. I make no claim of ownership over the source material or the characters within.
This fic is named for the DC comic line 'Whatever Happened to the...', which so far has featured the work of great writers Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman.
The idea that Kyon actually writing the Haruhi Suzumiya novels comes from MC-kun and his fan fic 'The melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya by: Kyon'. I haven't read it yet (this was intentional, as to not cross plots over) but if you like this then you might enjoy that fic.
Now for some light reading on a Sunday afternoon;
I stand on the edge of the stage whilst The Host warms the audience up with a joke. I can feel my stomach churning as he lets the punch line lose. They laugh and even I can admit I chuckled a little. Maybe I didn't show it, but I was definitely thinking it. I notice his eyes on me.
"Ladies and gentlemen, would you pleased as to kind as to give a round of applause for the creator of 'The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya' books," the audience drowns him out before he can even finish his sentence. I take my queue and enter stage left; waving at the audience as I step into the harsh lights. I've never been on TV before, I feel uncomfortable.
The applause dies down and I take my seat on the leather chair across from the host's. I smile, as I was told to and try to read the auto-queue but it's all a blur in the excitement. After what feels like an eternity of awkwardness the host joins me on the chair.
"So before we begin on the book series, can you tell us a little bit about yourself? Apparently you're known to be something of a private man," The Host asks. I smile uncomfortably.
"Well...where do I start? I was born in 1994 to a middle class family, both parents worked. I have a younger sister, who is much more academic than me. I went to High School at North High and then went to Kyoto University to study Law," I reply.
"And what did your parents do for work?"
"My mother worked as a secretary for a dentist, on the edge of the city where I lived as a child," as I spoke an old photograph of my mother appeared on the OLED screen hanging behind me. "Yes, like that." I laughed.
"And your father, what did he do?"
"My father worked as a manager for Cyberdyne Systems, Kyoto; one of the companies that went bust in the 2015 Japanese market crash." The picture changed to one of my father sitting in the Cyberdyne office.
"That must have been very difficult for you," I look into the audience to gauge their reaction. I decide to tell the truth.
"Not really...I mean, by that time I was already in my third year of university and dad was always a big saver. We had a lot of money for rainy days. Actually, that was better because that...the collapse of Cyberdyne systems I mean, was the final push that got him to immigrate the family to the US."
"And they still live there?"
"No, no my parents moved back after my father began his second career in teaching. My sister still lives there though; she's currently in her second year of university."
"And where does she study," he says. I can feel my cheeks going red.
"I don't want to say."
"Why not?" The Host leans in. He's smiling at me.
"I swore on Altair and Vega that I'd never admit to her that she goes there," I say with a grin. The audience laughs at my horrible conundrum.
"Well," The Host offers. "Technically you're not admitting it to her though; you're admitting it to us and we won't tell," he says.
"Harvard," I say.
"I'm sorry we can't hear you."
"She's a student at Harvard University, alright? Are you happy now? I've lost my one scrap of antagonism left in the relationship with my sister. There's nothing now, we might actually get on. Are you happy now?" I say jokingly. The audience bursts into all consuming laughter, even The Host chuckles to himself.
"I'm sorry, we're going to have to take a break whilst I...wipe away the tears hehe," the Host say's. The lights shining on us dim.
I take a sip of water to cool my voice. I can hear the audience begin to mutter to themselves. The Host is still chuckling as he wipes a handkerchief across his forehead.
"How am I doing?" I ask.
"Great, although you're being a bit reserved. Try to open up with the next segment."
"I'm sorry. My wife made me promise not to embarrass her on television."
"You're married?"
"Since the last year of University," I reply with a smile.
"What's that like?" I smile.
"Oh, I'm never bored." One of the people from before walks up the middle of the bleachers.
"Look, we're back on," The Host says.
"Five," the man on the bleachers announces. "Four, three." He stops talking and instead holds two fingers up and then one. The lights brighten once again and the house band plays some jazz leitmotif. The audience stands and applauds.
"Alright we're back," The Host says as the audience calms down. "Now that we've found out about your life let's talk about your critically acclaimed series 'The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya'." The audience applauds.
"Alright,"
"Where did the idea for the novel series come from?"
"The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya just began as something that I wrote to pass the time between exams in Law School. It was something a little more interesting than Criminal Law."
"You've been quoted in the past as saying that some of the characters are loosely based off of people that you knew in High School, members of your literature club."
"Very loosely based," I say. "But don't ever tell them that."
"Are you being intentionally avoidant about the issue?"
"I don't know," I say with a smile. "Why don't you ask me the question again using simpler language?"
"Are any characters in your book series based off of people whom you knew in High School?"
"That's...none of your business," I smile at the audience and they laugh. I feel good; the awkwardness at the start of the interview is gone. The Host smiles.
"hehehe," The Host lightly chuckles. "Is there a reason why you're being so avoidant about it?"
"Honestly, I think that if the people who I based these characters on discovered that I based these characters on them then they'd most likely never talk to me again," I ramble on as I lie. I have to lie though.
"So you're still in contact with a lot of people from High School?"
"Yes," I say. "A few people."
"So at this point there have been fifteen light novels; all of which have been best sellers however you've recently said that you have stopped writing the series after The Epistle of Haruhi Suzumiya. Why is that?"
"I should have expected this," I say. I know I can't avoid the question but it's still a difficult one to answer."I erm...it's complicated."
"Enlighten us then."
"It's very complicated," I say. "Will that work?"
"No"
"Alright. Honestly?"
"That's preferable yes."
"At the end of Epistle I thought that the series had reached its zenth and that there was no possible way that the series could get any more interesting. I just looked at my time line plan and everything after that point looked dull. Do you know what I mean?"
"I think I do, yes. It's interesting to note that you didn't leave it at completely open ended...you had the short story at the end titled 'Childhood's End'. Was that a reference to Arthur C. Clarke's novel of the same name?"
"Yes it was," I reply.
"For those of the audience who haven't read The Epistle of Haruhi Suzumiya yet would you please be as kind as to summarise the epilogue story?"
"Sure," I say and try to recall everything that happens. "Well...essentially the story takes place several years after the rest of the cannon, when Kyon and Haruhi are just finishing college..."
I continued on, explaining the story for the audience's behalf. I suspect that it was a lie that he was simply filling up time. I don't know, maybe I'm just a time filler? Its one thing to win a Hugo award and it's another to be famous. Maybe he couldn't get Neil Gaiman on tonight and he called me up because his publicist's aunt's friend's gimp's neighbour's florist was a fan of mine and they found out I was on tour locally. Stranger things have happened I suppose.
I finish and have to take a drink from the glass of water. I wonder if it were common procedure to not use coasters in Paris?
I don't think it matters.
"Excuse me?" I turn to the Host.
"Yeah," I say distantly.
"You were explaining the plot of the short story at the end of The Epistle of Haruhi Suzumiya and then you just sort of went limp."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I went off into a world of my own again."
"I suppose that must be a plus though, being a writer and everything."
"Oh, it is it is," I say and place the glass back down onto the table. "Although I don't think that my mother and father in law are quite very fond of me for it."
"Oh really."
"It happened on my wedding day," I laugh at the memory. The audience joined in.
"Yeah?"
"The whole procession went something like 'do you take yadda yadda yadda to be your awful wedded...excuse me sir," I say and try to keep breathing. "I ended up keeping the whole thing stalled for about two minutes," I make a face and the audience laughs.
"So you are married?" The Host asks as the audience chuckling dies down.
"Well, obviously yes, happily."
"Was that before or after the book series?" I don't know what to say. I laugh uncomfortably. Wouldn't you?
"It was pretty much concurrent," I say. "I mean I met her much earlier than the book series so the marriage and the publishing deal happened at about the same time."
"Ah," The Host has closed in on something. "So when you were married did you have a western ceremony?"
"Yes I did."
"So you had a best man?" I don't know why this line of questioning is in any way related to my books. I don't suppose I can sidestep this question though.
"No," I say.
"No?"
"No, I had a best woman; my friend Naoko Sasaki,"
"Oh?" The audience is as surprised as The Host.
"Yes. Is that strange?"
"No, no...well it is...but it's not," The Host replies, badly. "It's a little bit strange yes."
"Well, I don't care if it's strange. It was a nice day and nothing will ever change that."
"Nice," The Host says underwhelmed. "To most people the wedding is at least 'great' but to this guy it's nice. What would have made it more interesting to you; Aliens, Time Travellers, Espers and sliders?"
"No, sliders would be completely unnecessary, thank you very much," the audience doesn't get the joke. They don't get the joke from my point of view. They laugh anyway.
The laughter goes on for a little while longer before the audience settles down once again. I can tell that my fifteen minutes of fame is soon at an end. The auto-queue say's two minutes remaining. I can see my publicist in the audience and my personal assistant. Both of them have thumbs up. I'm almost done, almost there.
"We're short on time, so I will just ask you one final question before we part ways. In your master plan, how would the series have ended if you had continued the story?"
"The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya," I say distantly. "The series would have ended the way most good stories end; romantic resolution, catharsis, probably some sort of final battle and then...I don't know, some sort of post credits scene."
"And that's all you'll ever say?" The Host asks. The audience is deathly silent.
"And that's all I'll ever say," I grin as I reply.
The audience applauds. My refusal to finish the series for them has probably caused some annoyance but at the time I didn't care, and neither did the student audience. The band begins to play again and I take that as my queue to stand up. The Host joins me.
"Thank you for having me," I say and shake his hand.
"It's been a pleasure. What are you going to do later?"
"My wife has arranged tickets to see Les Miserables," I reply.
"I've heard great things about the show. You'll have a great time," One of the stage hands is gesturing me to come off the stage. I oblige and step out into the light. Behind me The Host is speaking directly at the camera. "...the writer of the hit novella series The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya; which has a feature film coming out next year with the same name. He's in Europe on a book tour at the moment so check his website if you want to find your closest book shop where he'll be appearing. Now it's time for some music. Ladies and gentlemen, these young women have come...oddly from the same town as our last guest. They've sold two million records worldwide and they've got a new album out. Ladies and gentlemen, playing their new track 'Tsar'...ENOZ!"
I disappear into the darkened bowls of the television studio whilst my old classmates play their music. The book tour is only just beginning but there are no more TV dates, at least none in French (which, I have to confess isn't my strongest language). I'm relieved. I retire to the dressing room that I had been allocated and take a shower and get changed.
"Your interview was satisfactory, although I am receiving emails from my superiors at the publishing agency that you failed to sell the book enough," my publicist says as I leave the bathroom. "And your fly is open." Oops, I close it.
"Thank you Nagato-san. Have you heard anything from your other superiors?"
"No. For the three millionth, four hundred and sixty five thousandth, four hundred and sixty seventh time my attempt to contact the Data Integration Thought Entity has met with failure, will attempt again in six minutes." God bless her, she used to check once every minute.
"What about Asahina-san and Koizumi?"
"I have been unable to contact Asahina or her superiors since the day that she left North High School. As you are aware Koizumi's last communication with myself consisted of a 'Christmas card' approximately four years ago," she says.
"Approximately," I ask.
"Time is relative."
"Is there anything else?" I ask her as I pour myself a cup of hot chocolate.
"Your PA has called for a car to take you back to your hotel, and I will have mine with seven sugars."
I suppose this isn't the exact way that I imagined my life would turn out, but I'm not uncomfortable in this life either. I was never that academic at school so I doubt I could have been a great scientist or a doctor but on the other hand I doubt I could have made a living as a fisherman either. Regardless, I can't imagine my life any other way. There's just something about recanting your life story and making good money, seeing the world and spending all of that wonderful time with my family and friends that's simply fulfilling.
Our car crosses the front of the Eifel tower and I take a look. It's not that impressive but I suppose when you've seen the things that I have the normal man's world isn't that impressive anymore. Please don't misunderstand me; I acknowledge that it should be impressive. I can see the parts where I should be impressed...the size of the girders, the amount of bolts, the size of it, the lighting bill etc. In theory it's all very impressive but it somehow fails to gain an emotional response.
Maybe it has nothing to do with the weird life that I used to lead and more to do with the life I do now? Was Al Bundy right? Does domestic life really kill your soul? I hope not, I still have to earn a living with my soul. Maybe it's the complete opposite? Maybe the joys of domestic life make everything else seem pale by comparison?
I don't know, maybe I'm going through a midlife crisis. I think I'll get a Bughatti. Bughatti's are cool.
I'm almost crawling by the time I reach my hotel suite. I sigh. Sighing is good to be honest, it lets out stress and it reinvigorates an old soul like mine, it releases carbon dioxide too, which from a purely biological point of view can only be good. I pull on the door knob and let myself in. I can't even get into the hallway before my children ambush me and ask what I've brought them. Karin (the youngest) pulls on my beard gleefully as I scoop her up into my arms. I'm happy to see my children and laugh as they tell me what they've done today.
"And then we went to the Assas University on the Pantheon and mom said that we had to stay there for a minute whilst she has a talk with the Dean of Interna...internat," Isane, the eldest struggled.
"International Relations," I corrected her as she escorted me through the threshold. I could hear my son playing on the games console that his mother's father brought him for Christmas. I nod at my son with a smile as I pass his room on the hallway. I put Karin down and she goes off to annoy her brother.
"Where's mom?" I quietly ask Isane.
"In your bedroom, she fell asleep after we came back."
"Have you been alright?" I ask.
"Yeah, We've only been home ten minutes." I smile at my eldest child.
"Go tell your brother and sister to go get dressed. I'll just get mom up and we'll all go out to eat before the show," I say. Isane smiles at me and then goes into their bedroom.
We've had a funny sort of existence together, me and the old ball and chain. We shared our first kiss under the soft glow of raging anthropomorphic personifications of her inner melancholy. We had our first 'intimate moment' in a cave waiting for the rain to stop whilst hunting for a homicidal Esper (it wasn't really intimate in the traditional way. It was raining and we had to dry our clothes but I've found in the past having children stage of our relationship any time where you get undressed can be classed as 'intimate'). We spent our senior prom fighting Alien Demon Cats possessed by the re-incarnated ear eels from Ceti Alpha V and then...some other stuff that isn't really appropriate to talk about in this medium.
But after all this time and all these experiences I will still shout to the heavens that I'm happy to be with her. Since the day that I met her in the back of that old classroom she's made my life much more interesting; whether it was the time that we got locked in that house or the time that Isane shoved toast into my Playstation 4.
Haruhi opens her eyes and smiles at me. She has a half filled out staff admissions form on her stomach. Closed Spaces stopped appearing during the last year of High School, which is when we began dating. It wasn't long after that that Miss Asahina disappeared completely, and the SOS club drifted apart.
She hasn't changed that much since those days. She's maybe a little taller and with a fuller figure, and she's much more contemplative these days, less prone to emotional bursts of craziness (well, discounting of course the time that she John Lennoned my car).
"Hey," Haruhi said as she opened up her eyes. "How was the interview?"
"Exhausting, The Host made me tell a story about our wedding day."
"The stalling in front of everybody thing?"
"Yeah," I say and fall on the bed next to her, only in opposite directions.
"It could have been worse I suppose. He could have asked you to tell a story from the wedding night."
"That will be my next book," I say with a grin. "The undercooked eggs followed by uncomfortable bed, too thin sheets of Haruhi Suzumiya." She bursts out laughing. I laugh with her.
"What time is it?" She asks.
"Six fifteen."
"What time is the show?"
"Eight thirty."
"Why did you wake me?"
"I thought we could go get something to eat before the show starts."
"Oh. Yeah that sounds like a good idea. I'll just get dressed and then we'll head out." She stands up and so do I. I go into the bathroom whilst she unpacks the dress that we bought last week. I go into the bathroom. "How's Yuki?"
"She's fine," I reply as I wash my face. "She's just brought a new house."
"On her salary?"
"Apparently she got a great mortgage price," I reply. "How was your interview with the University?"
"It went great; they said that they definetly want me to for the position."
"Your mother's going to be annoyed if we move here."
"My mother was annoyed when I married you, maybe this will finally get her to shut up about it," Haruhi replies jokingly. "How long are you going to be in there?" she asks.
"Not long. I had a shower in the studio," I reply as I consider having a shave. My decision, nah. I turn the light out.
"I don't think she ever approved the idea that you used our names for the characters in your books...and then there was the thing that you insulted her cooking."
"Oh I didn't insult her cooking," I say. "You insulted her cooking."
"When did I ever insult my mother's cooking?"
"I think it was book 8," I reply as I brush my teeth.
"Book eight?" She repeats disbelievingly. "Kyon, you do know that the character in your book is only loosely based on me and not actually me? I'm not a reality warper." Sure Haruhi, sure.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing dear," I say. I wish I could tell her the truth. Surely after all these years the masquerade can finish?
I know I can't tell her though; I can only keep her happy and watch the children in case they develop similar abilities as their mother. Dear God I hope not, I really don't want to be in the position where me getting or not getting one of my children a pony will determine the fate of the universe.
"Here you go." I say as I leave the bathroom. We cross paths and she lays the dress across the dry sink. She turns the light back on and looks at her reflection for the longest time. I'm gasping for air trying not to laugh.
"Kyon, my love," she says eerily calmly, still using the name that my sister gave me all of those years ago. "Why did you draw on my forehead whilst I was sleeping?"
I love my wife I really do but she did start this whole drawing on each other thing and, sometimes I just can't resist being evil and continuing our quarrel purely for the sake of it.
Author's Notes: This will be my last MOHS story for a while whilst I get into University and attempt some different fic universes.