The Origins of Haruhi - Harlequin and the Eye In the Sky
- x -
by Haruhi Suzumiya and the SOS Brigade
Important note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or places in this story is purely coincidental.
Author's notes: Please be aware that there was no actual author. Any resemblance of this story to existing stories is purely coincidental.
- x -
- Foreword
It isn't quite clear to me when "Origins" was written, and I'm not even sure the word "when" is the proper way to describe it. Nevertheless, it seems like something that was written about twenty years in the future. Imagine if I had never met Haruhi Suzumiya or anyone else (except for some ordinary friends, of course). Don't get carried away, though, since this is just me we're talking about. I can never seem to experience anything significant in my life without it being related to Haruhi, and this depressing thought is made all the more relentless by this work that I apparently wrote.
In the course of this work, I describe a certain encounter with aliens, unaware that aliens even existed or that the name Haruhi Suzumiya should mean anything, let alone someone who should rightfully be avoided at all costs. This account contains no mention of Mikuru Asahina and only a couple vague references to a person I assume is Itsuki Koizumi. From this, I have been left to infer that the word "origins" refers to that time plane from which the original Mikuru Asahina had come, and thus I was doomed to never see her. She wouldn't even exist until the future wherein she does appear, by which time I would long be dead. You see, Mikuru Asahina can never make lasting changes to the past without creating a paradox, which in turn creates a kind of whole new world. I've been told that she isn't the only one who can do this, but I highly doubt my reality has been shaped this way by anyone else.
The old worlds would be lost to us except for a concept known only to me as "synchronization." This refers to the process whereby the universe somehow merges time planes and makes that information available to the next time plane. However, this information generally gets lost in one's subconscious and is thus lost forever. Yuki Nagato, however, does not have the ability to abandon all this information in her subconscious. I'm not even sure whether she has a subconscious, but I digress. The point is, Yuki Nagato can remember all this as clearly as I can remember the events of my own time plane, and thus this work has come into my hands. In fact, she literally placed this volume into my hands, told me abruptly to read it, and quickly walked away. I eventually took this unusual tome and obeyed her request.
Despite how unpromising this premise is, I have to admit that I turned out to be an unusually nice person, filled with merit and determination. I was simply thrust into unpleasant circumstances, and I nevertheless proved my capacity to make for myself a sound policy of calmness and restraint. I think this is the message Yuki was trying to send to me. Or rather, I hope this is what she intends. I can't help but feel a certain regret at how my own life is turning out, but then my own life is already far more promising than this original. I guess I might owe some thanks to Haruhi for that, but I think I'll take my time in doing that. There's really no telling what her reaction to this story would be, although I'm willing to bet it would be something very unpleasant.
Anyone seeking enlightenment regarding the nature of the future should keep in mind that this is really just a kind of potential future. Since Miss Asahina has already changed the future (and since I do a pretty lousy job of keeping up with things in general), you would only be searching in vain for significant details. So, don't bother thinking you can corner the stock market or something. I'd have already found that information and removed it from this version for myself, if that information did exist. This is nothing more than my attempt to set to rest some troubling questions people might have to the best of my ability. After you have encountered this work for yourself, I leave it to you to form your own opinions regarding the worth of this story.
- x -
- Chapter 1: On the Road to Findout
The question of whether a person deserves a normal life is so stupid, it isn't even a topic suitable for idle conversation. It simply goes without saying that everyone should have a job, a hobby, and a home of their own. Nevertheless, I found myself walking down the street one day, completely bereft of all three of those things, and I realized with some wry amusement that I could just vanish from the world like I had never existed. I could just take these essentials I was hauling around and go anywhere. And why not? It's not like there was anything to hold me back.
Yeah, right.
Of course, the only reason I was heading anywhere was because I would be starting up my new job in a couple days. Along with that, I was venturing toward my new home, excitedly anticipating what kind of new hobbies I might experience. There's always that thrill of the promise of a new adventure with this kind of change, and the world itself had become obsessed with the idea of exciting changes. It's a little sad when you think about the world you're leaving behind, but along with those goodbyes would soon come some hellos.
I feel it's important to mention that a person should also have a job that agrees with them. For someone to be stuck in a life that they hate is probably the worst tragedy I can imagine. I used to think that being hated was really the worst fate a person could have, but then I began to wonder what it might be like to be cherished and favored all the time. If your every craving could be satisfied and your every aversion avoided, wouldn't that be just as horrendous? It's a very bizarre thought for someone raised the way I was, but then I've never been comfortable with simply accepting the things people have always taught me.
Now, I'm not saying that we should avoid the path to Nirvana. I'm just saying that there are those for whom such a life might be considered tragic, simply because it doesn't really agree with them. And, quite honestly, I think I may be one of those people. The thing is, I don't recall ever living in a way that made me seem altogether comfortable, so perhaps I should just chalk this up to luck, or maybe I was just an especially righteous person in a previous life. Then again, the thought of reincarnation is a terrifying thing for me, so perhaps I should just call it luck.
Speaking of luck, as I began eating a prepackaged tuna snack for my breakfast, I noticed a cat go flying out the window of a passing car. It landed, as all cats invariably do, on all fours. The laws of physics, however, commanded that the cat go tumbling, and I watched in profound astonishment as all this occurred.
"Whoa! What the hell?" I said, briefly wondering whether I was hallucinating.
I raced over to where the cat had stopped rolling, and I carefully observed whether it could move on its own. I'd hate the thought of it becoming paralyzed by my clumsy ministrations, but I really had nothing to worry about. This was one incredibly lucky cat. In addition to having survived a brush with death, it was also one of those rare male calico (or tricolor) cats.
"Are you okay, there?" I asked it. "I don't suppose you just used up one of your nine lives, huh?"
I slowly picked it up and began to pet it, mindful of how a strange cat might react to me.
"Heh," I added. "Look at me. Talking to a cat. You weren't hurt, were you?" I then shook its paw and greeted it. "Nice to meet you, pal. Hey, this is the first time I've picked up a strange cat and not had my arm half ripped off."
The cat then jumped from my arms and went straight to the container of tuna that I had left on the ground. Apparently, it was too hungry to claw me up the way an ordinary strange cat might. I briefly had the uncomfortable thought that maybe it had only jumped out the window because of my snack, but then I realized that the car in question had not turned around and come back, so maybe this cat was actually thrown out. I felt sorry for the poor thing and decided to take it with me.
- x -
As I crossed a bridge leading toward my new home, I was just beginning to think that I had found a new friend in this cat when I suddenly noticed this figure in a strikingly familiar outfit up ahead of me. It was familiar because I had seen it on the news from time to time over the past five years.
Before me stood this masked woman wearing a cap not unlike what Santa Claus might wear and an outfit covered in red and white diamond patterns. You don't just overlook a figure like this, especially in a world where people make a huge effort to outdo each other with wearing outfits less unusual than others.
"Hey..." I said. "Don't I know you?"
"Unlikely," she replied, and I was forced to agree.
"No," I clarified, "you're the Harlequin, right? I've heard of you."
"That's possible," she admitted.
The cat then jumped from the top of my rolling baggage and raced toward this figure.
"Hey!" I called out.
"It's okay," the figure assured me.
The figure then took off her mask and picked up the cat. It seemed bizarre for a moment that this cat I had just seen thrown out a car window had also known this famous woman. I then told myself that this was just one of those odd coincidences that only ever happen in real life.
"Did you feed him?" the figure asked me, and I was a little surprised to note how flat and monotone her voice sounded, even without the mask.
"Huh?" I said, briefly confused by the lack of tonal inflection. "Oh, yeah. I did."
"Thanks," she answered.
"You're welcome," I added.
This talk of food reminded me that I was still a bit hungry myself, so I began to think of how fortunate I was that I would soon be at my new home. I would then deposit this baggage and go find myself a real breakfast.
"How did you find him?" the figure then asked.
"Well," I answered, not really thinking, "I was just walking down the road here, and this jerk throws the little guy out a car window. I'm a little surprised he didn't break a leg or something."
"You observed him being thrown from a car?" she asked me.
"Yeah," I answered, then wondering whether the car's driver had even noticed the cat was gone. "Well, I didn't exactly see him being thrown, but he did come flying out a window. I suppose he could have jumped, but..."
My mind was completely muddled at that point, and the woman looked at me with an oddly puzzled expression like she was trying to read my thoughts.
"I know this is going to sound weird," I said, my heart suddenly in my throat, "but I'd just like to tell you that I'm a big fan."
"Of the Harlequin?" she asked.
"Yeah..." I answered, thinking how strange it was to suddenly equate this mysterious figure with a woman having an attractive but otherwise ordinary-looking face. "Well, I guess I admire your reputation and the work you do."
"You approve of the chaos I create?" she asked.
"Yeah," I answered, very sincerely. "I mean, I admire how you do it with such a flair. I also admire how you don't really put anyone at risk."
Images of her on TV sprang to mind. I recalled with some amusement the Harlequin terrifying the phony brave, stealing rare items from the absurdly wealthy, confronting a few famous people with the lies that they themselves had spread. Harlequin's gift for poetic justice was both wonderful and amazing to me, and I was truly at a loss for words other than these.
"I suppose you get people telling you that all the time," I added.
"No, actually," she replied. "I am mostly hated."
"Really?" I wondered. It seemed odd that she would insist this, especially considering that we were standing on a sidewalk to a bridge in the middle of some light morning traffic. Surely, if she was so hated, someone would stop or make some kind of angry protest. Of course, no one was yelling out encouragements, either.
She continued, "Have you not seen the demonstrations wherever I am most noted and my actions witnessed?"
"Oh," I replied, "you mean that deviancy amplification spiral the media likes to feed? I don't pay any attention to that kind of thing."
"Okay," she acknowledged.
I have a very critical eye when it comes to the news, and I don't assume that what anyone reports is the unvarnished truth. The mere fact that the media seemed to hate her was something that I took for proof that she was truly heroic.
"Anyway," I added, finally gathering my senses, "nice to meet you."
"Likewise," she replied.
"Is that little guy yours?" I asked.
"Indeed," she answered.
"Oh, great," I said sincerely, but also starting to babble. "Isn't that great? I mean, a touching reunion. Sort of..."
There was then this long, awkward moment that was like a bubble getting ready to burst. I then noticed the strain on the woman's face when she looked at the cat, followed by moments of relief. She would then look tense again, but then she would relax. Seeing this made me realize that she was the cat's owner, and that she had endured some painful distress over the little guy. It made me glad for my weird luck, which had brought everyone back to where they belonged.
"I suppose I'll be on my way," I said, glad to have this pleasant mood to continue my day with.
As I passed by, the woman held out the cat to me, and said, "Here."
"You want me to take him?" I asked, turning to look at her face, but she had turned away.
"Yes," she replied.
"Okay," I said, taking the cat back and briefly petting it. I then set him down on top of the baggage, and I was a little surprised to notice how he now seemed content to lay there.
"It's Yuki Nagato," the woman added.
"What?" I asked, wondering what she'd meant by that.
"My name," she softly replied.
"Oh?" I said. "Okay."
I then had a brief thought that I had never met anyone with a prettier sounding name than that, and I felt a sudden urge to tell her something.
"By the way," I said, "I'm..." I wanted to tell her my name, but she had vanished like the wind.
- x -
Shortly afterward, I came to my new residence. It was somewhat humble, but really about the most you can expect when living so close to the city for a fairly reasonable rental rate. It was a standard, two-story apartment building with three apartments on each floor. The doors were numbered, and a typical mailbox hung on the wall next to a typical outside staircase. My apartment was "202," so that meant that my place was the one on the second floor in the middle. I consoled myself with thinking that at least this apartment was only a couple blocks away from where I would work, which was practically like winning the grand prize in a lottery.
I was a little surprised to note that no one had name plates on their doors, but then that wasn't exactly all that unusual. It's not like you really need them. I also noticed the simple doorknobs, sans deadbolts, and I wondered briefly how safe these apartments were. I'm not obsessed with security, so I just shrugged and made my way to my own door. I tried out the key, was satisfied that it worked, and I entered my new apartment, with the cat still lying on my baggage.
"Well," I said to the cat, "here's our new home."
I'd seen pictures of this place on the internet site where I'd discovered it, but those didn't really do it justice. For all its humble simplicity, it had an understated air of space. Something about it just made it feel like it was larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Maybe it was just from the emptiness of the place, but I don't think so. I picked up my cat and put him gently on the floor, petting him again to make sure he wouldn't run away.
"Okay," I added. "Be a good cat or I'll drop you in the trash chute."
I looked around again and took in the layout of the place. A small foyer for leaving my shoes at the door directly led into a small kitchen area. A space for a fridge, a counter top, and a sink led into an oven/range. After that was a door leading to the bathroom. Beyond the door and this front hall was the main living space, and around the corner was where I would place my bed, among other things. This was a pretty typical setup, and it felt reassuring to have everything right where I assumed it should be. A moment later, I noticed a beautiful woman knocking at my still-open door.
"Hello?" she said, her voice like a ray of sunshine through dark clouds. It sounds cheesy, but I can't think of a better way to describe it.
"Oh, hello," I answered, delighted to see such a beautiful woman.
She took out a small box of snacks and handed them to me, as befitted my image of such a beautiful woman, if she was indeed my neighbor. This was just the standard, customary greeting you should get in Japan. Could my luck get any better?
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she added.
"Hope you don't mind me bringing in a cat," I said, smiling like a madman.
"Oh, that's quite all right," she softly dismissed my trivial concern.
"Sorry," I said, getting a little irritated with myself, "I'm being rude. I'm your new neighbor."
"Yes," she answered, "I've heard all about you."
"Oh, okay," I said. "So, no introductions are necessary?"
I briefly worried when she said, "That's right," but then she smoothly added, "I'm Ryoko Asakura."
I laughed and playfully stated, "Just the way I like it. Keep it casual."
"I agree," she answered.
I then noticed with some annoyance that I can never seem to just introduce myself properly to people. I put down the box on the counter and had another good look at this woman, noting her name. Ryoko Asakura. She struck me as a woman in her mid-twenties, very nicely shaped and beautifully proportioned. Her face struck me as the kind that just naturally gravitated toward smiling and very playfully amusing herself when even the most terrible things might be happening. Speaking to her, I got the impression that even if she were addressing someone else, you might mistakenly believe that she was really addressing you, personally. It all sent a warning signal to my mind that I mentally shoved as far back as I could.
"Nice to meet you," I started, extending my hand and fully intending to follow up by telling her my name.
"Likewise," she answered, gently shaking my hand. This answer threw me for a bit of a loop.
"That sounds familiar," I muttered.
"I know," she told me. "That's just what Miss Nagato said to you when you greeted her."
"So, you know her?" I asked, suddenly baffled.
"That's right," she said, very smoothly. "And I know all about the fact that she's really Harlequin and all that, so don't bother trying to keep it secret, okay?"
"Okay," I said. "Just seemed like a funny coincidence."
"I mean," she added, "don't go to any trouble on my account."
"All right," I answered, now fully convinced that I might never introduce myself properly. I sighed and turned my thoughts toward breakfast, thinking briefly about Yuki Nagato and the odd way that she had suddenly disappeared on me.
"Anyway," Ryoko said, "it's been nice meeting you. I hope we'll become good friends some day."
"Thanks," I answered. "Yeah, I hope so, too."
She began to leave, and I was just starting to think again about what to do with my cat when Ryoko returned with a concerned expression on her face.
"I hope this doesn't sound impertinent," she said, "but you really should keep your door closed and locked."
"Should I?"
"Yes."
"What? Do we have trouble with burglars around here?"
"Well... It isn't so much the burglars that cause the trouble, so much as..."
She looked away, seemingly embarrassed, and I wondered briefly what she meant by all this.
"Huh?" I said. Then I guessed, "Oh, you have rowdy neighbors up here?"
"I guess you could call it that," she replied softly.
"I don't care about things like that," I firmly answered her.
"Oh, okay," she added, still looking grave and uncertain.
I added, "I have an open door policy when it comes to my neighbors, no matter how rough and tumble they may be."
"Just thought I should warn you," she explained, "because one neighbor in particular..."
"Who?" I immediately asked.
"Nothing," she insisted, strangely. She looked up and stiffly smiled while saying, "Well, I'll leave you to your unpacking. I'm sure you have a lot of stuff to take care of."
"Wait a second," I said.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Who exactly were you referring to?" I asked, not really liking the way this conversation was heading. I don't really think it's a good idea to live near someone and not know if they're going to prove to be a problem.
"I'm afraid it would be terribly rude of me to tell you," she answered, sounding very apologetic.
"Oh, come on," I casually complained. "You can't just tell me to lock my door and then not tell me why. Which apartment is it?"
I went outside in my socks and looked around. Since she was glancing that way, I assumed she meant that the trouble-maker lived that direction.
"Is it this one?" I asked her, gesturing toward apartment "203."
"That one is mine," she softly corrected me.
I then pointed the other way, and began immediately going to that apartment.
"So, this one," I said.
"No, wait!" she said, starting to panic.
I knocked on the door and firmly asked, "Hello?"
There was no answer. Only a thick blanket of silence ensued, while I waited and Ryoko fretted.
She finally worked up the courage to say, "You really should be careful with this apartment. This is the one Miss Suzumiya lives in."
"Who?" I asked.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of Haruhi Suzumiya," she said, as if astonished.
"Should I have?" I asked.
I then knocked on the door again, and shouted, "Hey! Anyone in there?"
"No!" Ryoko softly exclaimed, tugging on my arm and frantically grimacing at me.
"What?" I said.
"Just trust me," she answered. "Okay?"
"Really?" I asked, wondering just how bad this Suzumiya person could be.
"Really," Ryoko replied. "You don't want to wake her."
"She's asleep?" I complained. "At this time of day?"
"She's a writer," Ryoko explained, "and a very cranky one. She's notoriously unkind to strangers."
"A writer, huh?" I wondered, thinking on my book collection and the many authors I knew of. "How come I haven't heard of her?"
"Should you have?" she casually asked.
"Of course," I boasted. "I know all the best sci-fi writers and most of the best writers of all the other genres."
Ryoko then slowly smiled, then scowled at herself.
"Okay," I said, realizing. "I guess I just answered my own question."
"Keep your key, too," she added.
"Why?" I asked.
She looked exasperated and sighed, saying, "You might need it. I mean, unless you don't mind climbing into your apartment through a window."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I wondered, puzzling over how those two concepts were related.
"Well," she said, "I'll see you later."
She then went back to her own apartment, and she immediately closed her door behind her. I imagined her locking her door behind her, and I briefly wondered what it all meant. My cat then followed me and looked up in expectation.
"I guess she's a bit of a wallflower," I told the cat, not really sure I believed it.
- x -
I was in a damn good mood that morning. I had a new life, a new home, and I was looking forward to a new grind. In the meantime, I had met the actual Harlequin in person and had almost instantly solidified my crush on her. Then I had met a very friendly, beautiful woman who conveniently lived next door to me. Even if that other neighbor was Genghis Khan, I think I would have still had a lightness and a spring in my step. I went from shop to shop making various reservations, and found myself at a coffee shop having lunch with an old friend. It was just Taniguchi, but then nobody said life was perfect. Taniguchi is just this guy I used to know in high school that I can never seem to get away from.
"I know this is a bit sudden," I said, "but do you happen to know a writer named Haruhi Suzumiya?"
"Yeah," he answered. "Why do you ask?"
"I heard that name recently," I explained, "and I just thought I'd ask."
"You into the occult, now?" he wondered.
"No," I replied. "I just wondered if her stuff was worth reading. Does she have a reputation? That kind of thing."
He smiled fiendishly and said, "Oh, she has a reputation, all right." He then took out his cell phone and started pushing some buttons on it. "You have that reader app?" he then asked.
"Huh?" I asked, slowly realizing that he meant on my phone. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting I upgraded recently."
My relatively simple cell phone had a lot of hidden features. This is one of the odd quirks of living in the information age. Even simple things get fairly complicated in a hurry.
"I'll give you a copy of her latest series of masterpieces," he added. "It'll save you the embarrassment of being seen buying one those damn things."
I took out my cell phone and fussed with it for a few moments, but I just couldn't seem to find the mode for this kind of direct file transfer.
"Damn it," I said, going around and around through a list of options.
"Here," he offered, "let me do that for you."
I handed over my phone, saying, "Okay, sure."
Taniguchi then spent a few moments pushing some buttons on my phone, waited another moment, then handed my phone back to me.
"Enjoy," he said sarcastically, as he put away his phone.
"I didn't know you were into pirating e-books," I mused.
"I'm not," he stated. "Those are scans. No one's crazy enough to even bother OCR-ing them."
"Scans?" I said, putting away my phone. "You gotta be kidding me."
Reading e-books on my cell phone would have been hard enough. No way would I be able to read a scan. This just meant more hassle, transferring these files to my laptop before I could read them.
"Good luck finding a hard copy," he said. "Those damn things can never stay in stock."
"Why?" I asked. "Is she any good?"
"Oh, hell no," he answered. "She's horrible. She's so bad, she has a cult following for just the books. Those guys are nuts, too. They buy every hard copy of those books they see. Thankfully, they don't print too many."
"How did you get a copy?" I asked.
"I have my sources," he replied. "Anyway, her books suck. I'm just giving you fair warning."
I chuckled and then asked, "How bad could it be?"
"What?" he asked. "You suddenly develop a taste for bad literature?"
"No," I answered. "Actually, she lives next door to me. We haven't met, so I was wondering how impressed I should be with her work."
"Oh," he said, "so you moved today?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I got my first load of essentials. I need to haul some more stuff."
"I see. So, this is what you wanted to talk about."
"I don't suppose you mind if we use your truck?"
"Sure, but you'll have to pay the standard rate."
"Sheesh."
So much for friendship. Oh well. I can't expect Taniguchi, of all people, to do anything for free. I'm surprised he didn't charge me for the scans.
"Hey," he said, "I gotta make a living."
"What's your interest in Suzumiya?" I wondered.
"Well..." he answered, taking a few moments to think. "I knew her way back when. It's kind of a sentimental thing."
"You went to school with her?"
"Middle school."
"So, she's an old flame?"
"No way. She's a total weirdo. She was pretty notorious, even back then."
Now, he had my attention. I have a keen interest in weird women. I might not have liked admitting it back in high school, but this subject was something I constantly thought about, lately. Well, actually... I've had a serious affection for strange women for the past ten years or so.
"How so?" I asked.
"One time," he explained, "she drew some weird stuff on the school field with that chalk thing... You know?"
"Chalk thing?" I asked.
"You know?" he said, "That thing you use to draw the lines. Anyway, she made some crazy doodle or something. I don't know, but it made all the local papers."
"How do you know she did it?" I wondered.
"Cause she totally admitted it," he answered, smoothly. "And that was just one little thing."
"So, you kept up with her writing?"
"Yeah. I figured it had to be good for a laugh, at least."
"I don't suppose you want to visit? Maybe get caught up for a laugh?"
"Yeah, right. Keep dreaming. I wouldn't set foot in that apartment building. I might catch some of that crazy."
It then occurred to me that I was about to deliver a lot of heavy items and furniture up to a second floor apartment. I'd have a rough time doing it myself, so I decided to play a little wild card, here.
"Really?" I said. "Oh, well. That's too bad."
"Why's that?" he asked, predictably.
"There's this really beautiful woman who lives there..." I said, and from his expression, I knew I had him.
"Why didn't you say so?" he asked. "Oh, man. I'm there."
"But I thought you didn't want to come over," I prodded him.
"I'm a photographer," he explained. "You know that."
"I thought that was just a hobby," I said, thinking that this was a new excuse.
"It's my dream," he added. "A man has a right to dream, right?"
- x -
My dream is to collect lots of books, so whenever I move, I always sell the heavier items that I don't really get sentimental about. I also sell off a big stack of my books, but I've been finding lately that it gets harder and harder each time to sell the old books. I end up selling everything except my books, then break my back moving them all along with the heavier items I'm replacing in my new place. I usually buy a lot of used furniture for my new place, but something told me to just be picky and buy a few items that I knew I'd really want, rather than populate my place with junk.
This turned out to be a good move, because that meant less work for me and Taniguchi. He's a real lightweight when it comes to hauling heavy items, so I would have ended up moving most of it myself. I got my new TV placed in a corner of the room, adjusted my sofa, and had a seat to check how well it worked for me.
"There you go," he said. "Everything a man needs to survive. A couch, a bed, a TV, a fridge, and a hot water dispenser."
"Okay, cool," I answered. "Now, we're getting somewhere."
"I've moved a few times in my day," he added.
I was just thinking about getting up to start hauling up my boxes when I heard a knocking at the door. Taniguchi went to answer the door, and was suddenly blinded by Ryoko's radiant beauty. She was even wearing a prettier dress than before. I don't think Taniguchi really believed me when I said she was beautiful, so now he was in a sudden state of shock.
"Hello," he said. "Whoa..."
I got up to greet her, as I figured it would take a minute for Taniguchi to recover.
"Hello again," I said. "Sorry about my friend."
"I hope you don't mind," she answered, "but I brought over some snacks."
She held in her hand a plate of crackers, and I gratefully took them.
"I don't mind," I said. "Please, come in."
"Thank you," she answered, smoothly entering my apartment. "It's not every day we get a new neighbor around here."
"Sorry," I added, "I don't have any tea or anything to offer you."
"That's okay," she answered very cheerfully. "I can bring something over."
"You don't have to trouble yourself," I casually stated.
"Really," she said excitedly. "I'd love to. I'll be right back."
As Ryoko Asakura left the apartment again, I decided to see how well the table behind my sofa looked, placing the plate of crackers onto its surface. I picked one out, saying, "Think I'll try one."
"Okay," Taniguchi said, slowly recovering, "what the heck just happened?"
"What did I tell you?" I said, adjusting the plate on the table to look a little more presentable.
He continued, "That has got to be the most smoking-hot babe I've ever..."
There was a knocking at the door again, and he quickly answered it.
"Hello," he said, suddenly at a loss for words again.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," I said, wondering if I'd get to greet anyone. I went to the door and noticed Yuki Nagato, wearing a more ordinary outfit: a white, sleeveless top with one of those jeans with lots of pockets on them. I had a moment where I couldn't recognize her, but then her face suddenly came back to me.
"Hello," she said.
"Sorry about my friend," I answered. "He's helping me move."
"May I come in?" she asked.
"Of course," I replied. "Please, come in."
I felt a little mortified that I hadn't invited her in before she could ask, but she didn't seem too offended as she entered and looked around.
Taniguchi then asked me, "Should I ask...?"
"Oh, right," I said, suddenly realizing. "Taniguchi, this is Miss Nagato. Miss Nagato, this is Taniguchi."
"Yeah, hi," he said, then he turned to me and asked, "Am I missing something?"
"What?" I asked.
"Why is there...?" he started, but was interrupted.
"You mind if I smoke?" Yuki asked.
"Go right ahead," I answered, "but I don't have an ash tray."
"That's fine," she said. "I have one."
"Oh, good," I added. I turned back to Taniguchi and asked, "What? You say something?"
Yuki took an ash tray and a pack of cigarettes from a couple of her many pockets, as Taniguchi came closer to speak more confidentially with me.
"Dude," he said. "You've got a hot chick living nearby, and suddenly in walks this other hot chick. What gives?"
"I don't know," I replied very cheerfully. "Why don't you ask her?"
He sighed and said, "You're killing me, man."
I noticed Yuki looking at a window, and I told her, "Yeah, that opens up."
She opened the window and then lighted a cigarette.
"You want to switch apartments with me?" Taniguchi then asked.
"Forget it," I replied.
Ryoko then returned with tea, and I hastened to say, "Thanks. Sorry for all the trouble."
"It's no trouble," she said, setting the tray on the table next to the crackers.
I took a cup of tea, as Taniguchi continued blankly staring.
Ryoko looked at Yuki and said, "Really, now?"
"What?" Yuki answered.
Ryoko then added, "You've barely met, and you're already smoking in his apartment?"
"And?" Yuki asked.
"You know it isn't healthy," Ryoko lightly scolded her.
I put down my tea, suddenly worried about my horrible manners here. "Miss Asakura?" I said.
"Yes?" she answered.
"Sorry I neglected to introduce you earlier," I explained. "This is Taniguchi, an old friend from high school. Taniguchi, this is Miss Asakura."
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," she answered.
Having cleared that up, I felt like making my grand announcement, "Everyone, you're welcome here. Please feel free to relax. Take whatever you like. Come and go as you please."
This other strange woman then suddenly appeared at my open door, saying, "Whoa, that's generous. Hey, don't mind if I do."
I reflexively asked, "Hello? Who are you?"
I was a little taken aback by this woman's sudden rudeness, and I watched in astonishment as she smoothly entered my apartment, not even hesitating to try out my sofa. Despite the fact that she was obviously middle-aged, she carried herself like a child of thirteen, and grinned like a wolf at the prospect of freshly killed prey. She was very casually dressed, and her expression and body language exuded intimidating confidence, but I think I was a bit more surprised by her tenacious beauty. Here was a woman you might think was in her mid-twenties, though it was immediately obvious from her face that she was actually in her mid-thirties.
"Nope," Taniguchi said darkly, "she hasn't changed a bit."
The woman added, "You already have all this stuff. Sweet."
"Don't tell me..." I said, starting to realize.
"Yep," Taniguchi replied, "that's the one and only."
"I should have moved into this apartment," she added. "This one is a lot nicer than mine."
"Excuse me," I said to her, "but we haven't been properly introduced."
"So?" she answered. "Hey, don't sweat it. I know who you are."
She looked at Ryoko, and Ryoko just sighed and shook her head.
"Do I know you?" the woman asked me.
I turned to Taniguchi and asked him, "Help me out, would you?"
"Huh?" the woman said.
"Oh, right," Taniguchi said, realizing what I'd meant. "I don't suppose you remember me, Miss Suzumiya?"
"Should I?" she answered.
"I'm Taniguchi," he added, "from East Middle."
"Sorry, what?" she said.
"Anyway," he then said, "this is a friend of mine from high school."
"Oh," she said, quickly turning her attention back to my apartment.
Taniguchi then sighed and said, "Sorry, Kyon. I can't deal with this. I'm outta here."
"Kyon?" Haruhi said, wondering.
"See ya," Taniguchi said, leaving me behind to sort out this mess.
"That's not my name," I informed them.
Ryoko smilingly pointed out, "But didn't your friend...?"
I explained, "That's just a nickname my little sister gave me back when we were kids."
Haruhi grinned again and said, "It's perfect."
"Excuse me?" I said, thinking I hadn't heard her correctly.
"It really suits you," she added. "Yeah."
I sighed and then said, "Never mind. Just do what you want."
Haruhi then said to Yuki, "Hey Harlequin, what's up? You ready to stop being a frigid bitch?"
Yuki glared at Haruhi for a moment, then gave her the finger. "Bite me," she said in her weird, characteristic monotone.
"Oh, ouch," Haruhi answered. "I guess you can't always be sheepish and hesitant."
Yuki glanced at me, then put out her cigarette and picked up the cat.
"I'm becoming sick of you," she added to Haruhi.
"Yeah," Haruhi casually answered, "I'm getting damn sick of you, too."
"Shamisen hates you," Yuki stated. "That's why he ran away."
"Shamisen?" I said, wondering just who the heck would have a name like "Shamisen."
"It's your cat," Haruhi told her. "He obviously ran away from you."
Yuki then said, "He's not mine anymore."
Haruhi then seemed surprised. "Oh?" she asked. She then looked around at me, and suddenly scowled. "Oh, I get it," she said. "I'm just in the way."
I think I was just piecing together the fact that "Shamisen" was the cat's name when Haruhi got up in a huff.
"You can all just drop dead," she added. "Especially you, Ryoko." She then stomped out of my apartment, slamming the door closed as she left.
"Should I even ask?" I said, my mind whirling.
"It's probably better that you don't know," Ryoko stated.
"Okay," I said, content to leave it at that.