Hi! I'm Jenx. It has apparently become my tradition that, when I like a fandom enough to write for it, the first thing I do is start a series of alphabetical drabbles. And somehow, I never get tired of this. SOMEHOW. XD So, um, apparently I like Haruhi enough. So have A drabble series! Hope you enjoy.
Nagato Yuki cannot feel, but if she could, she would feel old. It's not that her body is old- she's approaching her fourth birthday, and she understands that is young. (Why she bothers to remember such a thing as a birthday, she's not sure. The date of her creation is unimportant.)
She watches Kyon and Suzumiya argue over some trivial matter, and she feels old because they must be so young if they don't understand that they love each other. She wants to tell them so they will understand and she can stop feeling so old, but she knows the data would lose its meaning if it was put in words. Thousands of years and millions of observations have taught her to quantify love, but she is still unable to explain it.
She feels old when the first snow of winter comes and Suzumiya declares a snow war on the computer club. She watches them fight each other from ditches and trees, hurling snowballs with rocks at the center and leaving ice on the floor of the club room. They shout. They curse. They smile. Nagato observes and calculates statistics on their happiness, and she feels old.
Nagato likes funerals. She visits them sometimes and sits at the back. She's fond of the elderly, the ones who have seen death often and understand it. They sit straight-backed in their chairs and stare at the front of the church. Solemn. Stoic. Calm. Yuki sits among them. She cannot understand death. She hopes that one day, one of the elderly will explain it to her and she can listen like she is young.
Chah... that wasn't supposed to be about Yuki at all when I started... it wasn't even supposed to be a Haruhi fic... I was trying to write for Baccano!, but it didn't work out. Ummm, concrit is welcome, happy holidays, and I'll see you all later!