I sometimes get the feeling I missed a lot in high school. I don't mean "I should've asked that girl out sooner" or "maybe I should've joined a sports team" or "I shouldn't have bombed that class" or anything as shallow as that – the springtime of my youth was altogether too busy. Even if I didn't want to participate in some of the events that occurred, I was dragged along in their wake – often by my tie. Really, I had no choice but to live in the moment.

…I'll never admit it to her, but I am somewhat grateful for that. As I've learned since, once in a lifetime opportunities are usually something you have to grab – they almost never grab you. Readjusting to that has been… at times, tricky. These days, I just ask myself, "What would she do?"

Sometimes, I have to follow that up with "...that won't land me in jail?"

But living in the moment has its own problems. Chief among them: the details are so overwhelming, so vivid, so omnipresent... that you forget that they're just details.

I wonder... what was really going on?

[Date Unknown, Author Unknown]

It was, in hindsight, a bit embarrassing. When the test results came out, his mother actually broke down in tears. Tears of joy, certainly, but the public spectacle… well, actually, the public spectacle of it didn't bother him so much as the implication that it was nothing short of a miracle that he got in at all.

It wasn't a miracle. It might've been… theoretically… divinely influenced, but first and foremost it was because Haruhi had demanded that they cram for the test.

"Koizumi-kun's waiting for his Brigade!" she exclaimed one afternoon, near the end of the summer break before their last year. "And Mikuru-chan – I'm sure your parents would much prefer that you attend a big-name university instead of the local technical school, right?" Yuki, they needn't mention – her academic output was… optimal. The faculty mainly left her alone for fear of doing anything at all to disturb that.

Of course, Asahina tried to stammer an excuse, and Kyon struggled – apathetically, of course – against the idea, but not for too long. Koizumi had pointedly asked that he do his best to keep her from getting bored, and if… ergh… studying was the way to do it, it would at least be the least troublesome idea Haruhi had gotten into her head all high school.

That was easily acceptable – really, anything that succeeded in keeping Haruhi occupied was. Yes, there was that incident with the Sky Canopy Domain that had left Nagato listless for two weeks during the winter (and Haruhi fussing over them, even going so far as to make Kyon buy them all facemasks, alcohol wipes and mouthwash – the chemical taste of artificial mint had lingered on his tongue for weeks). And he had had to work out two complicated closed timelike loops because of that sneering bastard Fujiwara – though that, at least, ended with a satisfying punch, even if his relationship, or what there was of it, with Sasaki noticeably cooled for a while afterwards.

But that was, what, three incidents over the span of a year? Freshman year was, ironically, a lot harder. All he had to really worry about was his grades now, and thanks to Yuki's minor tampering with timelike relativity in the club room, at least he had plenty of time to sit down and learn everything. He even enjoyed Asahina-san's tea once in a while, when she came by from her "part-time job." He'd even grudgingly admit that maybe Haruhi's capabilities as a tutor had something to do with it.

So it wasn't a major miracle that they got into Tokyo University. It was mainly a lot of hard work… and maybe a bit of bending the laws of physics, but mostly a lot of hard work. So it was really embarrassing that even his own family thought him incapable of working this hard without external prompting.

…no. No, that wasn't the most embarrassing thing. The most embarrassing thing was that they were right. Maybe it was a miracle – a miracle that either started in freshman year, or during Tanabata, three years before that.

He'd bite his own tongue off before telling her that. Haruhi's head was already inflated enough from the lavish praise his own mother was heaping onto her during that night's celebration.

"Oh, do take care of him, Haruhi-chan," said Kyon's mother, her face slightly flushed from happiness and sake. The remnants of a sushi feast laid before them – a tragic scene of carnage left by half a dozen tearing, rending, hungry maws, most of which was Taniguchi's fault especially once Kyon and Haruhi's dads decided to pull out the bottles of sake, the tittering disapproval of their wives be damned. Pretty much everybody even remotely related to the SOS Brigade was celebrating – though the relative lack of parents drew quizzical glances from those not in the inner circle.

"He's been such an aimless boy since middle school," his mom continued, much to his embarrassment. "I'm extremely relieved that you'll be there with him!" Haruhi laughed awkwardly as the older woman grasped her hands imploringly. "Please, at least make sure he chooses a major!"

"Now, Natsuki. Haruhi-chan has her own academic career to consider." Kyon breathed a sigh of relief. His father could be a sarcastic bastard, but he was a force of calm and reason. "Yes, Kyon-kun probably needs a guardian, but we shouldn't ask her to sacrifice her own future for him" Dammit, old man!

"Oh, I'm sure Kyon-kun can handle himself fine," said Haruhi's mother, laughing politely. "It's really Haruhi I'm worried about! She was such a wild child before she met him! I'm surprised at how level-headed she's been lately – if it takes Kyon-kun to settle her down, maybe we ought to… cement the deal? "

"M-mother!" protested Haruhi, flushed bright red. "I- I think you've had enough to drink. Don't you think, Dad?"

"Mmm… it would put me at ease if I knew my daughter was in the care of a capable young man like Kyon," said her father, blithely ignoring her. "Tokyo is a very long ways off, after all."

"You may be right, Suzumiya-san," said Kyon's mother thoughtfully as she mulled over their, for lack of a better word, proposal.

"Oh c'mon!" finally protested Kyon. "Are we seriously having this conversation?" He stood up, his legs a little wobbly thanks to Taniguchi – and, surprisingly, the usually reserved Kunikida – forcefeeding him booze (not terribly long before they both got dragged home). "Not only have we not even started college yet, we're not – not da… argh, whatever." Kyon slumped. This wasn't the first time the two families had met. Haruhi was already stammering her own protests, the parents were too drunk – on booze and on their own little dream of generational domesticity, and both Yuki and his little sister were both playing with Shamisen. It was hopeless – his life being was dragged in the wake of others, as usual.

Kyon made a few excuses and stepped out. The night was a comfortable chill – late March, and the spring of this year had begun to erode the frost of winter. He breathed a sigh of relief – being cooped up with the party inside was a little more than he could bear right now.

They weren't dating.

They'd talked it over before. After Mikuru and Itsuki having graduated, figuring out the logistics of keeping them in constant contact with the club (and overseeing Haruhi) became downright impossible for their respective agencies. Attempts were made to replace them, of course – the SOS Brigade saw an influx of freshmen for a while, but it wasn't just Haruhi's overwhelming personality that drove them away, one by one. There was also the sense that the SOS Brigade was made up of… individuals. Specific individuals. Others were welcomed, but they weren't… inner circle.

That whittled the Brigade down to the effective strength of three by the end of the first month.

Yuki didn't talk much – Haruhi loved to talk. So they talked. And, yes, they grew closer. And, yes, there was a tacit understanding that there wasn't "anybody else," so to speak.

…but.

Kyon furrowed his brow as he sat on the steps of his home's entrance. Yeah, yeah – another wave of guilt. He was the one that friendzoned her. Or, rather, implicitly friendzoned her with the extra layer of subtle hinting that maybe, eventually things would change. In short, he was leading on one of his... closest friends.

"I am sorry to say this, but… pragmatically, this is a near-optimal scenario for the Organization, actually," said Koizumi apologetically during one of their regular Skype sessions. "Her interest is sustained – and it is legitimate interest. I am sure you are aware of her reputation in middle school…?"

"Yeah, Taniguchi told me about that," said Kyon wryly. "But, look – this can't go on indefinitely, right?"

"Of course, of course. We are willing to lend assistance, if you choose to… seek deeper intimacy with her. But, unless I am mistaken, that isn't why you called me."

Koizumi never sneered. That said, there were times when Kyon still wanted to wipe the smile off of his face. Okay, sure – Itsuki's problems were often more life-threatening than the will-they-won't-they tension that so delights their school's rumor mill. Still, Closed Space events were getting rarer – and Kyon's problem was a constant.

"Kyon, it would help if I knew how you felt about the situation," said the esper, breaking the silence.

"I… I don't know," said Kyon, slumping into his chair. "Okay, yes. I like her. But because of who she is, I have to doublethink every move I make around her. I even have to meta-think, and then frame my actions on how much they're influenced by her subconscious! That's…"

"Hard?"

"Extremely."

There was a slight lag before Itsuki nodded. "And you're also concerned about how much of how you feel and act is because of how she wants you to feel and act."

"Wha- yes. Dammit, if you can read me like that, why can't you ever win a game of poker?"

"Heh. Well, we all have our flaws. You've talked to Yuki-san about this, right?"

Kyon nodded. "'No discernible alterations to your probabilistic waveform' or something like that. Basically, she isn't subconsciously meddling – maybe. But Yuki has her limitations too, and Mikuru's silent on how it plays out – if she knows at all. How do you 'observe' that something's changed if your prior observations of it are changed with it?"

"Something the Organization would dearly love to know too," said Itsuki, smiling faintly. "But this is perhaps irrelevant. Your paranoia about your free will in this matter serves as evidence that you maintain it – or else, you wouldn't be worrying about it."

"There's a strange loop there, you realize," grumbled Kyon.

"Yes, but for now, it serves your needs. There's nothing you can do about it except act as normally as possible. If the bounds of that includes affection for our dear brigade leader, then so be it. Of course, that isn't what's actually troubling you."

"I feel like you're peeling me like an onion," groused Kyon. He leaned back on his chair and sighed. "Yes, of course you're right. What's bothering me is that I have to play conspiracy games with her. And I don't know how long I can pull it off if we get… if we…"

"Get intimate?"

"Yes," said Kyon blandly, unamused.

"Well, your desire for honesty and integrity towards her is to be commended," said Itsuki, quite amused. "And perhaps a sign that your relationship with her would be a mature and stable one – relatively speaking, given the nature of both parties." Kyon rolled his eyes at the esper. "However… you're right. There isn't an easy answer here. And, of course, very little precedence."

"Right, because almost nobody's ever dated a slumbering god," said Kyon sardonically. "Thanks, Itsuki. You've been a great help."

The esper laughed and shook his head. "Perhaps it would help if I simplified the problem for you? What you want is a state of equality with Suzumiya-san. One where you don't need to hide from her. Also one where she is not… 'awakened.'"

Kyon barked out a derisive laugh. "They're mutually exclusive! Either I hurt her, or I allow her to destroy everything else! It's impossible to reconcile!"

"Then… as the assigned Hero of this story, you will have to reach beyond the impossible." Itsuki paused and shook his head. "No, I am mistaken. You are… destined to go beyond it. It is, after all, the nature of the Hero."

"Yeah. Easier said than done," muttered Kyon upon the steps of his home, echoing his sentiments from that chat not too long ago.

"Kyon?" said Haruhi as the door quietly opened behind him. She stepped out and patted him on the head reassuringly. "Hah, don't worry. They were just teasing you. Your dad pulled out the karaoke machine, by the way."

"…oh, great," groaned Kyon. "Mom's going to want a round. Don't tell her I said this, but she can't carry a tune at all."

"Heh heh heh… blackmail material…" snickered Haruhi. "Ow!" She pouted as Kyon tapped her on the head.

"Were they really?" scowled Kyon, distractedly. "Teasing, I mean?"

"Hmph! My parents better be! Some jokes go too far – who makes an arranged marriage these days?" snorted Haruhi derisively. "A-and with you…" And the occasional, increasingly frequent awkwardness settled between them.

Haruhi tried not to be disappointed when he looked away. Tried not to be disappointed in general, actually. Their talks – maybe that should be capitalized into Talks – over the preceding school year had been roundabout, seeding from the usual vitriolic banter they've had since freshman year and flourishing into winding, waxing dialogues on the nature of… everything. The necessity of an education. The tragedy of the commons. Whether the Tigers'd win it this year. The limitations of technology. What movies they should watch the next weekend. The fundamentals of human nature. Oddly, he shied away from discussing the nature of God, but everything else was fair game.

That damn Kyon was infuriatingly stubborn! He was always arguing against her. Pulling at inconsistencies, yanking at fallacies, hammering with facts and logical constructs… she wasn't quite aware when it happened – some time between screaming matches in each other's faces (her screaming; him mercilessly peeling apart every argument), between her surprise and struggle to keep ahead of what seemed to be his latent and slowly awakening academic abilities, between the quiet days when he found himself too exhausted to keep his eyes open, and she just sat there, contemplating the mystery that was this tussled-haired, eternally unimpressed stone of a young man…

"You fucking bastard," she had seethed one day, out of the blue. He'd gaped at her – a rare moment of surprise from him. She struggled to find the right words to express her incredulity; her frustration and vague sense of betrayal; her astonishment that under his callousness, his laziness, his disdain for the slightest bit of wonder and awe, Kyon was brilliant. Not just smart – though what kind of supposedly mediocre student could spout a nuanced analysis of utilitarian and Kantian philosophy one day, and the problems with faster-than-light travel the next? No, he was brilliant in another, more vital way – to her. She valued his insights, as crudely worded as they are. She wanted his approval. She wanted to…

Well, she wanted to kiss him.

And because introspection was so alien to her, because considering consequences was beneath her…

"H-Haruhi," he gasped, muffled, and she wondered how long he'd been calling her by her given name so familiarly without her noticing.

She stammered an apology – another alien act to her, accentuated by its awkwardness – and ran home that day.

They'd talked more, since. Calmer, but more passionate. More… intimate, even. It even seemed, somehow, to cause the others to edge back into her life – and she somewhat resented how they merely nodded as if expecting this development. Yuki speaking up more, in indecipherably dense words, extrapolating on either of their arguments; Koizumi-kun coming by over break to help with their studies, discussing the classes he had been taking and the research his professors have undertook, helping them – them – plan out their joint futures; even cute, silly Mikuru-chan had meekly offered to take her shopping before she was supposed to go to Kyon's house for the college entry celebration – shopping, that is, for clothes. Somehow or the other, Tsuruya-chan got involved, and a simple shopping trip turned into a full-blown spree involving crepes, shoes, dresses and… and lingerie.

The green-haired girl had… extravagant tastes.

Dammit, Tsu-chan! Haruhi's face flushed as she remembered and she huddled in embarrassment, suddenly all too aware of her own skin.

"Are you cold?" asked Kyon curiously.

"No! No. It's nothing," she protesting, vaguely waving away his concerns. Cold? She was too warm, if anything. "Sorry, maybe I drank too much."

"Ah, yeah. I'd apologize for my old man, but since your dad also…"

"Heh." They shared a chuckle as the crickets sang.

For a moment, it was peaceful. She was content. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

But that mask. He never dropped it. She could feel that there was something between them – something he wouldn't or couldn't say. She knew that he was aware of her own awareness – but that alone wasn't enough to dispel that quiet, haunted look just barely visible at times on the edges and subtle flaws of his mask.

The melancholy of Yorimoto Kyouhei was a mystery that fascinated her, frustrated her, and, in turn, left her melancholic.

Would there always be this… tension?

"Well, hey. We still have the rest of the school year, yeah?" asked Kyon, interrupting her thoughts. He nudged her familiarly. "Still need help with English?"

"Still need help with calculus?" she retorted.

"Baaahh. Numbers hate me."

"Laaaaazy! Don't think you're off the hook just because the entrance tests are all done!"

"Yare yare…" They laughed as a woman's voice warbled off-key in the background and the warm spring breeze gently passed through. Kyon stood up, and reached down.

She smiled as she took his hand.

And all was well with the world.

The school year drew to a close without (much) incident. Spring swelled with rainclouds and green growths, the pungent aroma of gingko trees caused its annual rounds of allergies, and the SOS Brigade ran afoul of the student council yet again when Haruhi commandeered the Music Club's equipment for an impromptu performance during the school festival.

There were pictures of it all, scattered across Haruhi's desk.

"Just – unph – stuff them into a shoebox or something," grunted Kyon as he struggled with a shipping box full of hardback books. "You can sort them – grnt – out later."

"No way! And let them gather dust? Also, stop being a wimp. Yuki hasn't even broken a sweat."

Kyon bit his tongue before he spat out a badly thought out retort. "Why the hell are we unloading your stuff for you anyhow?" Student apartments in Tokyo were already on the small side – not that it kept Haruhi from making Kyon lug around what seemed to be an Everest-sized pile of brown boxes full of... stuff. How'd she manage to fit all this in her parent's sedan?

"Hey, I helped you and Yuki move in too, you know," retorted Haruhi.

"Yeah, but Yuki barely packed anything." Other than an admittedly enormous library of science fiction works, meticulously organized by author, series and theme. "And I swear I don't have even a tenth of the stuff you brought."

"Hey, a girl's got needs."

"You apparently have too many."

Haruhi stuck her tongue out at him. "Just put those over at the third bookshelf – and grab that picture frame for me, will you?"

"Alright, alright..." A knock on the door interrupted their casual bickering. "Ah, Asahina-san."

"Kyon-kun, Haruhi-chan," said Mikuru as she stepped in, smiling at the chaotic mess. "Sorry I couldn't get here earlier. My... my guardians just dropped me off. Have you two gotten lunch yet?"

As if on cue, an audible growl was heard. "Oh – oh yeah! Lunch!" said Haruhi, her face flushed in embarrassment. "I guess this is a good time to figure out where the food is around here, huh?"

"Well, unless you want to be a starving college student..." drawled Kyon. He leaned against the bookshelf, wiping the sweat off his brow. "The school's cafeteria's open, right?"

"Man, your first meal in Tokyo, and you want to eat at the school cafeteria?" asked Haruhi, staring at him incredulously.

"No, my first meal in Tokyo was a bowl of ramen when I was a kid," said Kyon, rolling his eyes. "Besides, don't you want to check out the campus? We might as well figure out where our classes are before the term actually starts, you know."

"You're so boring sometimes," complained Haruhi. "Fine, fine. That okay with you, Mikuru?"

"Ah... I'm fine with whatever." Asahina smiled at the two, a little wistfully. "Should we get Koizumi-san and Nagato-san?"

"Eh, might as well," said Haruhi, shrugging. "Kyon! Where'd I put my purse?"

Midday abroad a train in Tokyo thankfully didn't include the breathless crush of bodies that defined the morning rush. Not to say that it wasn't busy – they were clearly not the only students taking in the local color before the start of the term. Not all of them were Japanese either – Kyon had heard that Todai counted about two or three thousand international students amongst its student body, which in turn was a little over ten times that number in size. Haruhi had awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation with a couple of European-looking students, taking pity as they looked especially lost. They had politely pretended not to notice Kyon muttering fixes to her grammar or word usage, or the way she'd kept a fixed grin while trodding on his foot in irritation. Mikuru seemed fluent in comparison – or, at least, less abused as a translator.

"Umm... they told us to meet them at the Akamon, right?" murmured Mikuru, a little flustered as she fiddled with a copy of the campus map as they exited the train station. "...isn't there something less primitive than..."

Haruhi laughed. "Mikuru-chan's bad with maps, huh? You don't need a GPS unit to find your way around campus, silly." She took the redhead's hand and dragged her off. Kyon hurried to catch up with them before they got lost in the growing lunchtime crowd, but paused mid-stride as a hand grasped his sleeve.

"Eh? Yuki?" He blinked as the shorter girl appeared suddenly beside him. "Weren't we going to meet up at the red gates?"

"Where is Suzumiya Haruhi?" she asked flatly.

"You just missed them-"

"Interception required." Yuki grabbed his hand and pulled towards where the other girls had gone.

"Wait – what, Yuki. What's going on?" Kyon struggled to keep up as he was pulled along."What's the big rush-"

Wait, there was something wrong. Yuki could move quickly, but she was never this... urgent. Her body language could almost be read to be in a panic.

Yuki never panicked.

Kyon cursed the seconds he wasted and started running – even then, he was still being pulled along. If Yuki, with her nearly omnipotent capabilities, needed him for something, it was obviously for the one thing he could just barely do: convince Haruhi not to do something. What that "something" was could wait – or could it? His own panic was starting to grow – the crowd was abnormally thick now, and he could pick up bemused murmurs as Yuki pulled him along. She could probably flash-step her way through the crowd easily enough by herself, probably even avoiding anybody's notice by some sort of cloaking program, but since she had to take him along-

-oh.

Oh, damn.

No wonder there was such a crowd. No wonder Yuki was actually... upset. The Akamon had been vandalized. Black, tarry paint had been smeared across its grounds.

"Haruhi!" said Kyon, grabbing the brunette's still shoulders as he caught up with her – too late, far too late. "Haruhi!"

She didn't respond. Her purse had slipped, unnoticed, off her shoulders and onto the ground. Asahina was trembling, unsure of what to say or do, the panic on her face far more vivid, but no more or less intense, than what Yuki expressed.

A sign smeared in vivid, blatant, even obnoxious paint – something Kyon hadn't seen in three years. For Haruhi, it had been six years. Six years since, in a fit of adolescent pique, she had broken into her school, and with the aid of a mysterious high school student, scrawled chalk across the blacktop.

A message understandable only to those it was intended to address:

"I AM HERE"

[The Revelations of Haruhi Suzumiya]

[Prologue: I AM HERE]

[END]

A good fic, I have been convinced, needs good beta readers. Not a cheer team, but somebody that's willing to give an honest impression – and, hopefully, help you untangle the worst of your self-inflicted knots.

So, with that, thanks to Chris A. and Charlotte W. for helping me make sure that my return to ficcing wasn't a total bloody disaster~