The sky was a pale lilac streaked with orange and pink by the time I trudged my way to the front porch, fumbling with the key for a moment before the door burst open. I stumbled inside, dumping my schoolbag in the foyer with a groan. High school teachers were slave drivers, and that was that, I thought, slipping out my shoes and padding to the living room.

My sister was reclining on the couch, lollipop clamped in her mouth and fashion magazine in hand. Idly flipping through the glossy pages of midriff-baring idols, she barely spared me a glance. "Get me my bike," she commanded, removing the candy with a little "pop."

I arched an eyebrow at her. No hello to her dear brother? Typical, I supposed, for a teenaged girl. Had I ever been that inconsiderate? Probably. "At this hour? It's crazy hot outside."

She kicked her sock-clad feet onto the armrests of the couch. "Did I ask for your opinion? Get me my bike, Kyon."

"Don't you have work?" I pressed, leaning against the television stand.

Her lips quirked into an irritating smirk. "Last day was today," she informed me, a bit smugger than necessary, twirling a curl of chocolate-brown hair between her fingers, "so I'm pretty much off the hook. Jealous, brother?"

I rolled my eyes. "You middle schoolers have it easy. Why don't you be nice to poor Kyon just this once?"

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Hurry up and get the bike."

I braced my hands in surrender. "Yeah, yeah, princess." It was remarkable, really, how little respect I got from pretty much everyone. Still miffed, I reluctantly crossed the empty kitchen (our parents, almost never home, had once again gone out for dinner) and slid open the screen door, stepping into the backyard. Swatting at a particularly persistent mosquito, I flung open the shed door, expecting only the usual stacks of boxes and abandoned lawn mowers to be lying in wait.

Instead, what I got was a mini-loft complete with a cot, paraffin stove, bookshelf, and of course, the cherry on top: Miss Yuki Nagato, perched on top of a box labeled "Christmas Decorations."

To say that I was flabbergasted would be a grave understatement.

"N-Nagato?" I could only gape.

"Good evening, Kyon," she said politely, sipping from a thermos.

"You're in my garden shed, and you- and that's what you think to say?" I spluttered. "Never mind that. Could you at least tell me why you're here?"

"I don't see the need," she replied. "Koizumi has explained everything already."

"So this is about how Haruhi's bad mood is because of me, isn't it?" I groaned. "I knew you guys were batshit insane, but to think you'd actually camp out in my backyard? I suppose you have an explanation for this?"

"The Data Integration Thought Entity requested that I do so," Yuki said simply, as if discussing the weather. "It has identified you as the threat, and wishes me to remain in close quarters so I may observe you. Termination may be inevitable."

I thought of her fight with Asakura, and shuddered. As much as I had grown attached to her over the past three years, there was no guarantee she felt the same way. I did not doubt for a moment that she had no qualms about killing me in cold blood.

""What if my sister finds out?" I hissed. "What about my parents?"

"The bike is outside," she replied, turning back to her murder mystery.


With the added pressure of a reasonably attractive girl camping out in my backyard shed, it was with reluctance that I trudged in for the final day before exams. Much to my dismay, Haruhi had not lost any of her previous zeal in the last stretch of cram week; in fact, it seemed as if she had only grown in agitation.

"We're gonna party it up from here on out!" she commanded, waltzing into first period and joining me by my window. It was a cruel twist of fate that we had ended up in the same class for three years in a row- or, if Koizumi's theory was indeed correct, however queasy it made me feel, she had willed it to happen.

"Oh, joy," I mumbled, exchanging a look with Taniguchi.

How would one go about asking Haruhi on a date anyways? She didn't strike me as the romantic type, so flowers and compliments definitely wouldn't do the trick. Brutal honesty, then?

Damn my curiosity.

"Hey, Haruhi," I said nonchalantly. "If anyone were to ask you out...how would you want them to do it?"

As expected, this question hardly seemed to faze her. "Well, of course, I'd want them to man up and say it to my face!"

"But you dumped all of those guys in middle school," I prodded. "They did it in person, didn't they?"

"Well, not all of them," she said thoughtfully. "Some of them just asked me through the phone. But nevertheless...it takes guts to ask someone out. I guess I felt bad about saying no at first? That was probably it."

If I actually was the reason for Haruhi's irritation, which would inevitably lead to the world's demise, if Nagato's unexpected presence was any indication...could finally taking Koizumi's oddball advice be the answer?

"Alright, class, settle down," Hanekawa-sensei, our homeroom teacher, strode in, shutting the door behind her. Once we had finally settled down, she regarded us solemnly over her horn-rimmed spectacles, the line of her mouth drawn taut. "In less than twenty-four hours, you will all have graduated and become full-fledged members of society, leaving behind the place that has been a sort of second home to you for the past three years. There will be expectations of you, new constraints, new rules. But with that comes freedom, will, choice. It is up to you- will you use or abuse your new privileges? Will you choose to become respectable adults, to contribute to the growth of society?"

I could feel Haruhi trembling behind me, every fiber of her being shoved into a container much too confining for the spirit it held. As much as I willed myself not to look, I couldn't resist taking the littlest peek at her; she was practically smoldering, her chocolate brown bangs hanging in front of her eyes, lips parted.

"It was my greatest pleasure to have known you all," Hanekawa-sensei continued, oblivious to the storm that was brewing in the back of her classroom, "and I can only hope you can continue the lifelong journey of learning you began here at North High. Would anyone like to share some thoughts with us?"

Haruhi stood up, her chair screeching in protest as it scraped against the tiled floor.

The class simultaneously sucked in its breath; three years together had taught us how to brace for the hurricane that was Haruhi Suzumiya.

"Yes, Suzumiya?" Hanekawa-sensei flicked a hand in her direction, completely unfazed.

"Bullshit," she breathed.

"Pardon me?" Hanekawa-sensei raised a delicate brow at her.

"Bullshit, all of it!" Haruhi shouted, and it was with a start that I noticed the tears in the corner of her eyes. And then, all of sudden, she didn't look so defiant anymore, only tired and defeated. "I've...I've had enough."

Without warning, she darted out of the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

It was dead silent for a moment. No one was sure just how to react.

Once I had fully registered what had just happened, I clambered to my feet, ready to chase after her, but Taniguchi tugged me back down before I could take more than two steps. "Leave it, Kyon," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"Taniguchi is quite right," Hanekawa-sensei said icily. "It's not your responsibility to clean up after Suzumiya's messes. It would be best for you to focus on your studies rather than her childish temper tantrums."

I obediently sat back down, fisting my hands in my slacks.

Because in the end...wasn't Hanekawa-sensei right? Why did I feel such an overwhelming urge to go after her, when my entire high school life had been ruled by her whims, her impulses? What did I owe the selfish brat who had always ordered me around like I was her personal slave, the root of all evil and personal threat to my very existence?

But then I remembered the tears in her eyes, Koizumi's words.

Haruhi is irrevocably in love with you.


When break time rolled around, I slipped out of the classroom and to the back courtyard, overwhelmed by my sense of growing guilt. Everywhere around me were students stretching and enjoying the pleasant morning sunshine, relishing the brief respite from the endless mantra of study, study, study.

As to be expected, Haruhi was sitting with her back to a tree trunk, picking petals off of the fallen flowers.

"Hey," I said tentatively, crouching down besides her and nudging her arm. "You alright?"

She glanced up to glower at me, absolutely pulverizing the blossom in her hands. "Go away."

"I mean, you do seem rather busy, personally victimizing that flower and all."

My feeble attempt at humor failed to get even a smile out of her.

"Fine, then." I bristled, standing up and brushing the dust off of my slacks. "It's clear you don't want to-"

Her hand lashed out and snagged onto the edge of my shirt.

"I always thought that I was special," Haruhi said softly, staring at a patch of yellowed grass. "Like I was different from all the zombies around me. But in the end...I'm nothing but a spoiled brat. Where's my miracle, my adventure? Isn't life...isn't life supposed to mean something?

She trembled, eyes welling up with tears once more. "I envy you, sometimes, how you're able to accept it so easily. Haven't you ever wanted to leave your mark on the world, Kyon? Don't you want to be remembered?"

"Actually, that would sort of be a nightmare," I said, in complete earnest. "I mean, the greatest mark a mediocre guy like me could leave is the trail of failed pop quizzes I've left in my wake."

"Typical." She let out a watery chuckle.

The bell rang, prompting a groan as everyone trudged back inside, casting one last mournful look at the sunshine and blue sky, our one last day of freedom.

Haruhi leapt to her feet, all signs of her previous gloom completely gone. She beamed at me, placing her hands on her hips. "Well, we better get going! Don't want to be late to the party, right?"

"By that, you mean Nostalgia 101 with Hag Hanekawa, don't you?" I said morosely.

"Psh, yeah, same difference." She held out a hand to me. "Come on, slow poke. Get moving."