Disclaimer: I do not own the 'Haruhi Suzumiya' series, and this fan-fiction is non-profit. All credit goes to Nagaru Tanigawa, Kadokawa Shoten, and Kyoto Animation. Please support the original source material.

Update: Edited at Oct. 2, 2015

Doppel-kun and Clone-chan

Act 1: For Want of a Nail

Part 1

We like to humour ourselves with notions of 'not caring what the world thinks' and 'how we see ourselves is what's really important', yet, the truth is, outsider opinion or the objective view, is all that matters. Take a piece of art for sale in an auction. Who determines the value, the artist or the buyer? The same goes with cuisine. Who determines what is delicious, the chef or the customer? When you look in the mirror, your appearance is not determined by what you think you look like but what the mirror throws back at you. This is you.

I am looking in the mirror. I expect to see a normal teenager with average height and average looks. A normal teenager. More specifically, a teenage male. Male.

Please excuse the redundancy, but it is justified in this situation. I need to emphasize the fact that I am, and always was, a man. Got it?

So why then, when I peer into my bathroom mirror with the utmost scrutiny, do I see not a man, but a woman? Why?

Despite how hypocritical this may sound because of what I just said about objective perspectives and all that, I will still shamelessly deny, with all my heart, the female me reflected in the mirror. Screw rational thought and common conventions, and to hell with what I said earlier. I will humour myself, this time, of corny sayings like 'I don't care what the world thinks' and 'how I see myself is the only thing that matters'. Yes, such delusions suit my current needs so I'll just roll with it. In my moment of desperation, I will throw away my treasured rationality and drown myself in denial like a certain Brigade Chief would. Because after all, I am a man.

"Bravo. Your claims of masculinity are truly impressive. Truly. Now, can you kindly tell me why you're in my mirror and why you bear such a striking similarity to myself?"

I am currently alone in a locked room, or at least, I should be, unless I had been negligent and allowed my nosy Imouto to slip inside as I entered. Yeah, I should be alone. Yet, it is clear that I am not.

I have seen many strange things since my first year at Kitago. Encounters with the supernatural kind, waking up one morning in an alternate dimension, never-ending time loops, and many more. Much more. So much more that I'm developing a haemorrhage just thinking about it.

Despite my experiences with the supernatural kind, today's impossible occurrence is an unprecedented one, which is an impossibility in itself because all impossibilities should have no precedence in the first place; that's what makes them so impossible. Yet such a paradox actually exists, an unprecedented, impossible impossibility. It's there in my mirror, my own reflection which somehow developed feminine characteristics and is currently, believe it or not, speaking to me. Just my luck. I've stumbled into another quagmire, it seems. How can I get out of this one now?

"You know, if you can just calm down, unwind, and relax, I think we can rationalize our current situation here, enigma as it may be."

Ah, it speaks once more. I pinch myself on the cheek, expecting to wake up to a screaming Imouto pulling on my bed sheets. Here comes the morning chill—just kidding. The pain is real. Which means that this look-alike with unruly, chestnut hair draping over her shoulders, and sharp-at-the-tip bangs falling over her eyes—is also real. Like me, she is in sleep wear: an unfeminine looking, baggy white shirt along with old, hole-ridden pyjama bottoms completing an outfit that can only be described as slovely. It is an exact replica of mine, even the holes were placed at the same spots. Yes, the longer I looked at her the more certain I became. If not for the outfit then that hunched back, that lazy posture, that look of resignation in her eyes, was evidence enough. Yup, there's no doubt about it. But despite the evidence, I'd still like to hold on the possibility of this episode being one horrible dream. Please little sister, wake me up in your usual annoying manner. I'll even sing the 'Shamisen breakfast~' song with you.

"I hate to rain on your parade, but this isn't a dream, or at least, not the conventional kind. Assuming that I am me, and you are you, and we are separate entities, then this is not any one of our dreams. Unless, of course, you are merely a hyper-realistic construct of my imagination. Then maybe it really is a dream—a crazy, drug induced dream—but a dream nonetheless. And of course, it'd be my dream. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I'm real." She emphasizes her point by pinching her cheeks like I did earlier. "It hurts." She rubs the afflicted area.

"Hold on a minute." I ignore this act of hers...pinching herself while cutely saying 'it hurts'...that a certain someone I know would claim to be 'moe', screaming the word with volumes reaching the highest decibels. "I know, for a fact that I am real and breathing and very much alive, thank you very much. If anyone of us is dreaming, it's me. I'm sure there's an aspect of Freudian or Jungian psychology that explains you as some sort of representation of my subconscious, a dream avatar of sorts. Or maybe, just like everything else that caused me distress this last year, you're a result of her powers."

She creases her eyebrows, and stares at me through the transparent wall between us with an expression of neutrality which somehow appears to be forced."Oh? Isn't the fact that you are denying me so strongly proof of my existence? Perhaps you feel threatened after seeing another version of yourself. It's one thing to see yourself in the mirror, but to see your own reflection come to life, and act in a manner similar to you is quite the existential crisis, no?" She smiles, one corner of her lips edging upwards, a look I can only associate with one who usurps their opponent in Chess with only two turns.

On another note, this maneuver of ending a game of Chess in two turns is called 'Fool's Mate', but now is not the time for my vast yet trivial knowledge. I make an expression as if I am mulling over what she said and considering it, but I am in fact formulating a way to regain control of this conversation. The flow is completely in her favour. "You sound exactly like a certain Esper I—or I suppose I should say—we both know, with that smug expression of yours and patronizing discourse."

"Hey, I resent that." She crosses her arms in a manner reminiscent to a certain reality-warper. All she needs are a pair of golden headbands and she's set. The thought activates my fight/flight instincts. Well, let's ignore this horrifying implication for now as there are more important matters at hand. First off on the list is the question of why my reflection, which had taken the form of a female version of me, is currently talking to me in a disturbingly familiar manner, as if we were old friends catching up instead of complete strangers who just met through the strangest of circumstances. Well, I suppose this familiarity isn't too strange as we are copies of each other, assuming that theory holds any truth in it, which I hope isn't the case. I hope this is all some sort of illusion. Hell, if this is a psychological attack from an enemy of the Brigade, then I'd be much happier with that outcome. However, if this girl is indeed a gender-bent copy of me, and if the existence of multi-universe is at works in the background here, then it seems that my weekend of lethargy has come to an abrupt end. Goodbye manga and light novels, good bye warm bed sheets, good bye heat-insulated kotatsu. Oh how it pains me to bid farewell to the simple pleasures of life, but the anomalies of this universe must be kept under the proverbial wraps once more. And who's the unlucky bastard encumbered with this task? Who else but me, the butt of the joke, the living punchline. Okay, stop laughing at my misfortune and let's move on with the story.

"The story can go self-ignite and spontaneously combust for all I care. Hell, I'd even be relieved if I got caught up in the process. Seriously, it's one thing after another with him."

"Wait, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding from my part, maybe I just misheard but—him?"

"Yes, him. Who else could I be talking about?"

"Uh, Koizumi?"

"Ara? Have you lost your mind, Doppel-kun?"

Oh? That nickname came out of nowhere. I can't say I love it, but we don't have a way to address each other yet. So if I'm Doppel-kun then I guess that makes her...

"Hm? Perhaps I should ask you the same question, eh, Clone-chan?"

"Just to make sure—in your world, there is someone with the insane ability to warp reality, reason, and space-time itself with a single whim, right? Does this kind of cheat character exist in your realm?" Despite the seriousness of her tone, I can tell she likes the nickname.

"Why, of course," I say. "Although there are times when I question the legitimacy of such 'truths' if it can even be called as such. One can never be sure in this hidden side of the world I've stumbled into. Well, although asking you might be redundant, I can assume the same individual exists in your world, am I right?

"Yes, but there is something I have to clarify."

"Hm?"

"This person you're talking about, is it someone hyperactive, obnoxious, and completely selfish? Does this ring a bell?"

"Yeah, scarily so. Okay, does your person possess limitless energy, is dangerously reactive, too dangerous to exist in this world, but the world would be in danger if they didn't exist?"

"A paradox?"

Well, her existence can be described as such, yes. Someone possessing contradicting qualities. She was the unstoppable force and the immovable object. Infinite and finite...well, perhaps I exaggerate, but you get the point.

"Well, it seems that we are referring to the same person—"

"—although something's not right."

"Okay, I'm starting to tire of this game of twenty questions," she says.

"As am I," I say.

"It seems we are in agreement. So then, in the count of three, unveil this mystery person's identity once and for all."

"Alright."

We both nod.

"One…"

"…two."

"…three!"

"Suzumiya!" we chorus.

"So far so good, but just in case—"

"—first name it is, eh?"

"One…"

"…two."

"…three!"

"Haruhi!"

"Haruhiko…eh?"

"Well, that can't be right. Shall we describe our respective person in detail?"

"Um…two heads taller than me, constantly wears a yellow headphone set?"

While I do remember Haruhi owning a pair of yellow headphones, I'm sure she doesn't wear it occasionally. I am certain of this because I see her practically every day. If not in class and club activities, it's the weekends for our mystery searching excursions. Now that I think about it, is such constant interaction normal even amongst the closest of friends? This disturbs me. I can't remember the last time I hadn't been with Haruhi for more than one day.

I have my own worries and it seems Clone-chan does as well. A thin streak of sweat drips down her forehead and stagnates at her cheek.

"Uh…height-wise their head reaches my chest, constantly wears a yellow headband?" I offer, although this is pretty much just a last futile struggle as my suspicions are all but cemented.

And looking at her, it seems she came to the same conclusion. "No, that can't be right."

"This is impossible," I say, although the word 'impossible' has lost all credibility to me. For such a definitive word, it is laughably exploitable. Want to make the impossible possible? Just add a sprinkle of Haruhi.

"Alright, finishing blow! Let's settle this with gender." She says, although we both know we are merely delaying the inevitable conclusion.

"Agreed." Yet I comply. We are both natural procrastinators, it seems.

We throw our hands out as if playing rock paper scissors.

"Male!" she says.

"Female!" I say.

She grips her head and shakes it about. "No, no, no."

I do a similar motion. "This can't be."

Although at this point I am not surprised.

"Brigade chief?" I ask. "Made an organization to find all the mysteries of this world?"

"Y-Yeah," she says. "Multi-talented? Unfairly so?"

"Yes. Has a habit of harassing me…well, us?"

Her head jolts up as if awakened from slumber, and she juts a wavering finger at me. "Yes! Well, that finally settles it. The sexual harassment and daily molestation is a must for defining that shady guy, huh? Well, I suppose it's 'gal' in your case. Although, wouldn't a guy like you actually enjoy said harassment, I wonder...?"

"Oi, ignoring that last remark, what's this about sexual harassment? And…molestation?"

And daily, I almost say.

"E-E-Eh?" She staggers half a step backwards and brings her arms up as if in surrender. "By 'harassing me' what did you mean by that, Doppel-kun?"

"Well, dear Clone-chan, I mean things like verbal abuse and forced labour. Having to do grunt work all day without salary, paying for meals on get-togethers, things of that nature."

"O-O-Oh, I see. So nothing along the lines of making you wear embarrassing cosplay, taking pictures of you in said cosplay, calling in the middle of the night to crack lewd jokes, groping of the brea—"

I hold up a hand. "A-Ah, I've heard enough, you can stop now." Really, this is too much. I look at her with pity.

She flinches from my gaze, recoiling as if my pity is a tangible force. "Aaaah. Don't look at me with those eyes. This is self-pity in the truest form of the word. It's actually harming me physically."

"Don't be embarrassed at this point. You and I are pretty much the same—well, except for the whole molestation gimmick, anyway."

"I regret ever saying anything. I'm so embarrassed I want to die. She points her pointer finger and middle finger to her head, imitating a hand gun. "Shoot me in the head and bury it somewhere." She knocks her head back after the metaphorical gun-shot.

"Okay, okay. But I must say, I am quite concerned about you, clone-chan. Haruhi is Haruhi, but a crime is a crime."

Really, this tyrant must be stopped before it's too late.

She draws in to herself and avoids eye contact. "Well, maybe I exaggerated a little. I mean, Haruhiko's calmed down recently too so there's that."

"Huh, I'd like to say 'that's impossible', but my own Haruhi has calmed down somewhat. I guess this character development is a constant in all universes, or at least, ours."

"Ah, now that you bring it up, I've been wondering about this topic for a while now, shortly after we established the identities of our common tormentor," she says.

I nod in agreement. "I've been wondering something too, and seeing as we are one in the same, may I hazard a guess?"

"Be my guest."

"Are you wondering, perhaps, about the nature of our alternate universes?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Ah, so we are on the same page. Well, this much is natural."

"Indeed."

"Well, I have my own thoughts, but would you like to go first?"

I cross my arms. If can see my actual reflection right now, I bet I'd see myself scowling. "Getting lazy, are we? Good grief."

"Good grief yourself."

I clear my throat and make a show of covering my mouth, actions indicative of someone preparing for a long speech. Well, it's time to emulate Koizumi's verbose speech; she's probably expecting something of the sort with the way she looks at me, so expectantly. Ah, even though she knows what I'm capable of and my strengths certainly don't include the rhetoric arts, she's still looking at me like that. Well, if it's come to this, I shouldn't betray her expectations, this is a man's responsibility after all. Here comes my poser phrase!

"Hm, I guess I should take responsibility. This is what a man should do."

"Eh? Can you not say something I'll misunderstand?" She looks at me as if she's looking at garbage.

Umu. That was a failure.

"Ahem, I'll get on with it. So, regarding my thoughts on this little situation of ours, I don't have any answers as of yet, but I have established some starting points to get as, well, started."

"Starting points?"

"Yes, like the beginning of the novel when establishing the themes are important as well as setting up plot devices and story arcs; the starting points I conceived should show us the paths we must take in order to shed some light in this whole gender bending fiasco."

"I see."

"Or so you say, but you probably had the same ideas yourself."

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but I'm humouring you."

"I figured. Well, let's just start this off. Like we said, we must first figure out the nature of our alternate universes. The similarities, the differences, the elusive intangibles, how our respective dimensions are connected, and if we figure out how, then we'll move and and ask 'why'. Let's start with this mirror between us and the implications of it—by the way we really must discuss this phenomenon at a greater length later. Maybe try some experiments and see if the mirror has some magical properties, as such a development would suit Haruhi's twisted tastes quite well—"

She twirls her finger in the air in a turbulent circular motion, like a record spinning erratically. Ah, a broken record? "You're digressing."

"Sorry," I mutter, "but it feels like I'm talking to myself, which I am, so I get the urge to ramble. Anyhow, first we must ask questions before we seek answers, the cart before the horse, and all that. What does the mirror signify, if it has any meaning at all? Does this mean that our universes are exact mirror replicas of each other? Aside from the glaring difference regarding our gender, there are also differences in our interactions with others, as exemplified by Haruhi(ko)'s, um, 'interests' regarding you."

Her eyebrows line together perfectly in a scowl. What impressive symmetry. "Watch it."

"Well, he is a guy after all and Haruhi's aggressiveness translated into the male body undergoing puberty is—"

"I said watch it."

I bite my lips to stop myself from laughing. "Ahem, very well. Where was I? Oh yes. There is another question we should ask ourselves: Is this the work of Haruhi—or in your universe, Haruhi(ko)—or is it the product of outsider involvement? And by outsider involvement I mean the superiors of our fellow Brigadiers, with the main suspects being the Data Overmind. Their intentions, while unclear, mostly centre on observing the data-distorting anomaly known as Suzumiya Haruhi(ko). This could be an experiment on their part, although it is hasty to blame the whole entity as they are apparently divided into sections. As a matter of precedence, I blame the radical faction whom Asakura Ryouko belongs to."

She shivers. "Asakura Ryou." Her breath hitches as she says that name. "That's a name I didn't want to hear again."

I want to mention the Sky Canopy Dominion but I'm not sure if such a unique entity exists in her universe as well. I don't want to distress her with worries that don't exist. Well, at least they might not exist for her. She already seems troubled enough by the mention of Asakura. So that knife wielding psycho's name is Ryou on the other side. I try not to imagine the male equivalent.

"Precisely. I won't dwell on the matter any longer than I have to. Moving on. The second culprit is Asahina's san's time travelling faction, although they are unlikely suspects as they are neutral most of the time, and never cause incidents themselves." Again, I don't mention the sneering bastard's troop of time criminals in favour of simplicity. Perhaps another time, but not now."Koizumi's Organization. Although, as suspects go, they seem the unlikely sort to pull a stunt of this magnitude, as it is more detrimental to their goals than beneficial—assuming that Koizumi and his colleagues are telling me the truth, and not weaving an intricate web of half-truths and white lies all for this moment. If this is true then we have already fallen into their trap."

"You don't seem to trust Koizumi much."

"And you do?"

"I guess? I don't know about guys but girls have an innate ability to sense insincerity. It's practically a necessity in the female social world of backstabbing and intrigue. So, yeah, I'm sensitive to these things."

Backstabbing and intrigue? The female world sounds terrifying. "And? What are your thoughts on Koizumi?"

"Koizumi is, well, I'm not too sure, really. But underneath all that secrecy and deception is a girl with good intentions, at least that's what I see. Call it woman's intuition."

"You seem to get along with Koizumi pretty well," I say.

"No, that's not it. But she is part of the Brigade so I give her the benefit of the doubt."

"How noble of you. However, I'm not suspecting Koizumi—your world or mine's—for this incident. I am not wary of the pawn but rather—"

"Ah, I see," she says. "Sometimes I forget that Koizumi's an over glorified spokesperson of sorts. Although that is sort of sad now that I think about it, to have your strings pulled from the shadows, acting as a mouthpiece and smiling all the time, living a life of insincerity. Perhaps I've been too harsh on her."

"If you feel that guilty, you should let her win a couple games of Othello."

"Not a chance. This sudden act of generosity towards Koizumi of all people is contrary to my character arc."

"What's that? You also said something earlier about letting the story 'spontaneously combust' didn't you? Are you also a fourth wall breaker aside from being a Slider?"

"Hm? A Slider? What makes you think I'm the visitor and not the host?"

It seems she has selective hearing as she ignored the first half of my accusation.

"You're the one in my mirror," she accuses, "so you're the number one candidate for being a Slider, right?" She knocks on the frame for emphasis. However, no sound is heard from the contact. The only sound I hear is my alternate-self yelping as her left arm phases clean through my mirror. She loses her balance and tips over, the upper half of her body submerging through my side of the window.

I consider cracking a snide remark, but I stop when I see tears forming around her eyes. Huh, so the differences between us might not be so subtle at all. Who knew that a change in gender could make such big differences, whether it's caused by the nature of her birth or her surroundings. Had my family treated her differently than they did to me in my world? Maybe her father had been overprotective of her and sheltered her a little; maybe her mother doted on her. Maybe her little sister—or brother, I suppose—was a bit more lenient on my other self in terms of being a general annoyance, but that's unlikely. I have a feeling that Imouto in all universes, no matter the gender, were all annoying little brats.

I help her out by pulling her to my side, seeing as 70% of her body is already on my side. She sobs softly when one of the holes in her pajama bottoms gets hooked on the sink's faucet and rips, exposing a bit of her derrière. I don't even find this remotely funny seeing as I'm technically the one going through this embarrassment. Ah, I hate seeing myself like this. Like she said earlier, this is next level self-pity right here. It physically hurts.

"Thanks," she says, after she's back on her feet. She looks downwards, avoiding eye contact. Well, I can't fault her. She showed me quite a lot of, er, never mind.

"Don't mention it. I'll be some sort of masochist if I willingly watch my own self suffer."

"Yeah, but can you really consider us one in the same, I wonder? It's only been a short time since we've known each other, but I can see the differences between us already."

"Well, that's a given, and I'm sure you know why," I say.

"Yes, I'm sure you had the same thoughts as well. I was thinking about it as you were pulling me from my side of mirror."

"How did that work, anyway?" I'm hesitant, but I place my hand on the mirror's surface. My hand goes through and I feel rouge sensations on my open palm. "Your bathroom's warm."

"Yeah, I just got out of the shower after all. There's probably some steam left."

I discreetly smell her hair. We use different shampoos, it seems. I use a scentless one while hers smell like apples. Another difference due to gender. Or maybe it was just a difference in personalities shaped through our respective circumstances. Trying to spot every sign of divergence between our lifestyles and personalities is a useless effort. I should just put those observations aside and focus on the important matters, like figuring out the secrets of this space-time tearing mirror. With that decided, I stick my hand through once more, feeding more of my arm inch-by-inch.

"What are you doing? Trying to go to my world?"

"Well, to be honest, I'd rather not if I have the choice. I like my world and going to an alien one isn't exactly a positive prospect for me. No offence, by the way."

"None taken. It's not like I'm too comfortable in your world either. It feels the same, but I feel a bit nauseous here, as if my body can sense the difference."

One reason I can think of is that there are variances in our respective environments such as my world having different oxygen levels than hers, or other such alterations in the atmosphere. If that's the case then the human body is truly amazing if it can react accordingly even in another universe. Perhaps the colonizing of Mars is not restricted to Sci-fi novel speculation, if surviving an alternate world just like Clone-chan is doing now is already a proven fact. Of course, Mars' surface is vastly different from Clone-chan and my worlds, which share an alarming amount of similarities. The elements needed for life are present and included in both of worlds, despite minor discrepancies.

"Can you stop mumbling about Martian colonies or whatever and help me go back to my home dimension?" I break out of my thoughts and see my female-self trying to stick a leg through my mirror. She grunts with effort as she successfully gets one of her legs through.

"Going back so soon? Sorry if my world's really that disappointing."

"Funny. No, it's just that it's getting pretty late already." She stifles a yawn with her palms. "I have to wake early for the expedition tomorrow or else I'll have a 'punishment' waiting for me."

"Ah, I see." Wait, something about what she said didn't make sense. "Wait a minute, so you're going to sleep now?"

"Yeah, that's the plan. Don't worry I'll try and contact you tomorrow, we still have a lot of stuff to discuss." She turns her head away. "And, well, it was actually sort of nice talking..."

I hold up a hand to interrupt her, the other hand massages my temples, easing the tension that accumulated there. "Wait, Clone-chan, there's something wrong here."

"Huh, what? Can you tell me tomorrow? I'm too tired right now. And how are you still so energetic? It's already—"She takes out a phone from one of her pajama bottom's pockets. It's a miracle the phone didn't fall out because there was a tear in that pocket. "—almost midnight. It's 11:59 pm." She shows me the display and a digital clock indicates that it was indeed almost midnight.

But that can't be because its morning right now, well at least, it is for me. I just woke up thirty minutes ago and planned to take a shower, but I got distracted by this girl here who has one of her legs sticking through my mirror—a rather grotesque image that I'd rather not have seen, by the way.

"If it bothers you so much then why don't you help me out?" She continues her effort, her forehead starts to perspire. So much for the shower she just took.

I move to help her, but I stop midway when the mirror starts acting strangely. It glows blue, a functionality I'm certain it doesn't originally have. The light becomes so bright that I had to close my eyes to prevent damage to my sight. I hear her crying out and I move in the darkness to help her. I stumble about until I find one of her feet. I enclose my hands around it.

"Should I push you in?" I yell.

"No, it's too dangerous, I can't see my world—just this vortex of light. Just pull me back."

I do as I'm told. I grunt from the excursion as I heave her out. I stumble backwards and trip, my back landing painfully on the sides of my bathtub. I open my eyes and see her falling towards me. I corral her in my arms and grit my teeth as the impact knocks the breath out of me.

"Sorry." She tries to get up, but goes limp and falls on me again. She uses her arms to soften the landing, but I still grunt from the impact.

My face somehow ends up buried in her hair. Apples. I peer through her shoulders and see the mirror shifting colours. Blue, red, orange, green. Finally, it glows an ethereal white and produces a noise similar to how a kettle whistles. After a final surge of light, the mirror shatters, shards of glass raining down around us. I pull her tight and cover her eyes with an arm. I burrow my face on her shoulders, protecting my own eyes.

I feel shards falling all around me, but I don't get cut. She yells out and I feel a hot liquid drip on my hands. Finally, after ten seconds, the shower of glass halts. The whistling noise ceases and the lights are gone, along with my mirror which shattered to an infinitesimal amount of broken shards. Boy, clean-up is going to be a pain. But such inconsequential worries will have to wait for later. Right now—

"Ah, why does stuff this always happen to me?" She leans into me, my face burying deeper in her hair.

She looks at the mirror, or where it used to be. Ah, that's right, the 'portal' is gone. It must be something to see your only ticket home exploding into irreparable bits. I suppose it's similar to losing your passport on the day of the flight—well, even then, recovery of the passport is still very much possible. This situation of ours, however, when the solution isn't as simple as going to a government office and asking for a replacement, is enough to drive anyone insane. Ah, my only way home just exploded. Surely such a thought would destroy the sanity of most ordinary folk. Although it pains me to admit this, me and her, we are probably past the point of being ordinary. So we can only just stare at the bits of glass all around us and sigh.

"Good grief," we chorus.

"Well, Clone-chan, it looks like you'll be here for a while, at least, until we find a way for you home."

"Well then, I'll be in your care, Doppel-kun."

"Uh-huh."

"But before that—"

"Hm?"

"Can I make a request?"

"What?"

She turns to face me, her cheeks has a pink tinge, and from this close, I can feel the warmth emanating from them. Even her ears are red and there is something like a swirling motion in her eyes.

"Can you take your hands off my breasts already?"

Ah, now that you mention it, there is something soft.

"There is a term for this." I say. "It's like incest but with the self. I think it's called self—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

I feel something dripping on my leg and remember that one of the glass fragments grazed her during the explosion. "You're wounded."

"It's nothing." She lifts her leg but winces.

"Uh-huh."

She pouts. "Shut up." I can feel her shaking. "And you can take your hands off already? You've groped me for long enough haven't you?"

I almost comment on how I can't really feel anything. "Let's get that wound treated."

"You were thinking something rude right now, weren't you?"

There's no point in keeping things to yourself when dealing with, well, yourself.

"I said take them off already! And that better be my phone poking at me or else things are going to be really awkward between us from now on."

Getting Clone-chan patched up didn't take long but it was enough to get me five minutes late behind schedule. I push myself to my limits as I pedal through the streets of Nishonomiya.

"Hime, hime, hime, tsuki, tsuki, daisuki."

I sing this nonsense to myself as I pedal up a steep hill. Not as steep compared to the one at school, but it was certainly no pushover.

When I arrive half a block away from our meeting spot, I can tell from a distance that Haruhi is anything but pleased with me, if her arms crossed and her feet stomping on the ground hard enough to make small craters isn't indicative enough.

"You're late Kyon, get your butt over here while I'm still feeling merciful. Or else its penalty, penalty I say!"

People stare at her and then at me. This isn't the first time my association with Haruhi resulted in public shame, in fact, this is a daily occurrence. I can vaguely make out Koizumi smiling to himself, although I don't need to see him to ascertain that. Asahina-san looks at Haruhi and then at me with her eyes watering, and Nagato was—well, at a distance her normally blank expression is even more cryptic than usual.

"I said get your butt down here now if you know what's good for you. Disobeying your leader's whims is a capital offence!"

We like to humour ourselves with notions of 'not caring what the world thinks' and 'how we see ourselves is what really matters'. However, in the world I know, Haruhi's whims are all that really matters.

"Too slow! It's the death penalty for you!"

Sorry Clone-chan, I can't help you go back. I will die in Haruhi's hands before I get the chance.

To Be Continued