Preface Notes Here's another chapter.

Thank you to my reviewers, who pinpointed that my "Kyon-narrative" style is still missing some idiosyncrasies that are evident in the light novels. I probably won't have finished reading one light novel by this time, but I'll do my best to capture Kyon's voice.

I'd like to especially give my gratitude to sarsparilla, who was kind enough to share with me the light novels for this series.

Summary Some promises are kept, others are secret, and others are broken. Some are simply lost through time, only to be remembered once again.

Disclaimer(s) I am not Kyon.

Unvoiced

Ugh.

*ring ring ring ring*

So cold...

Thump thump thump...

"Kyon-kun, wake up! Mom says you have to eat breakfast!"

So cold... must keep eyes closed... bed is so... warm...

That all changed when I felt a tug on my blanket, effectively pulling me from the bed and onto the harsh cold floor. That was my sister, the morning thief who followed my mother's orders willingly and without question.

The alarm clock read 7:00, the equivalent of when Freud would laugh in my face because of the dream I had last night, assuming I even dreamt at all.

Ice, I saw, had crystallized on the side door of my room. This was the sixth morning I had seen something like this, and knowing almost everybody else, they probably didn't want to get out of bed, either.

Luckily for me, classes were shortened because the flu bug was spreading around quickly. Asakura had just recovered from the influenza, but Taniguchi yesterday didn't show up at all. I guess he finally took it hard, that willpower isn't enough to cure a sickness.

Like willpower can do much.

I'm glad Mother Nature hadn't decided to infect me with the virus yet, and with good reason. I'd rather not feel nature's toothpick gnaw away at my HP.

Sure enough, on the way to school, I didn't catch Kunikida or Taniguchi. It's just me by myself today. It was at times like this that I missed the familiar voice behind me in the classroom, the smile that the other person in classroom 1-9 wore all day (that classroom doesn't exist anymore), the warm sweet tea that was always served, and the quiet corner where pages flipped.

I stood at the foot of the long uphill climb, seeing the gate of North High at the end of the staircase. Right, my stare-case to boredom. Every school day for the past few months I remembered, I had to walk up this tiring hill, even worse when I had to deliver something. Even if this hill was to be flattened by bogus magic, I'm sure she would along the lines say "The effects would last for several milennia", or something along those words.

While Mother Nature was gracious for not letting snow batter us, I took the time to walk up to my classroom, where I took my usual seat by the window, second from the back.

There weren't many students present, even though there was five minutes until Okabe-sensei started class. I hoped that Asakura wouldn't show up today. I'm still not used to seeing her, after what my memories said she tried to do to me.

December 23. How many days has it been since everything changed? Today would be the sixth, if I counted correctly. What happened since that day? I recall meeting Nagato in the Literature Clubroom; I remember running to Kouyouen High, panting, being beaten mercilessly by Suzumiya Haruhi, and yet consolidated after I revealed my emergency trump card. Koizumi was with Haruhi at that time; in a few days we're all going to meet together. That's what we all planned, at least. I'm surprised that Nagato agreed to an outing, to one with two complete strangers.

Okabe-sensei walked into the classroom, and the few remaining students scrambled to their seats, the middle of the classroom more vacant than usual. The teacher scanned the classroom, and seeing that I was the only student present in my row, raised an eyebrow. It's not like I gave them the flu, sensei. I'm sure that if I caught it, I'd be home sick until Pluto finished a revolution around the sun.

The class representative was absent, and, fortunately, no back up system was implemented in such a case, so we skipped the introductory customs. Good, because I didn't feel like moving from this chair. While North High didn't have air conditioning, it did have a heating system, which was beneficial to me, as the vent laid to the left of my seat.

While the teacher taught, I noted that due to the presence of fewer students, it was much easier for him to notice who was and wasn't paying attention. Dammit! I can't doze off and look out the window today!

Well, even if the world was going to change tomorrow, I probably wouldn't pay attention in class anyway. I'm sure by now he knows I slack off in class.

After boring lessons of Japanese and mathematics, the ten o'clock break began, and I stepped outside of the classroom for a breather.

Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I walked out the door, leaving all the other students behind. Those that remained in the classroom, I noted, all wore face masks to cover their mouths. It's as if I'm the only one who hasn't caught it yet. I would like to say that God gave me a rather strong immune system, but I wasn't sure if God existed in this realm.

The 1-6 classroom, I saw, was relatively full of life and laughter. Wasn't this Nagato's classroom? Even so, I didn't catch a glimpse of the gray-haired (with several shades of lavender) girl anywhere in the classroom. Was she sick, too? I didn't recognize anybody in her classroom. Taking another glance into her classroom, I continued to circle the school.

I didn't know exactly why Asahina chose to decline Haruhi's invitation to meet up, but I believe it had something to do with Tsuruya's sudden barge into the Literature Clubroom and screaming "You pervert!" I promise to you that my ears didn't lie to me. And I promise to you that I was not a pervert.

Asahina's classroom, consequently Tsuruya's classroom, was on the third floor. I didn't feel like dropping by to take a peek after what had happened. Tsuruya would, I imagine, land her fist into my face like she threatened a few days back.

That aside, I wondered if the SOS Brigade would be formed in this world. Haruhi expressed great interest in it, but we were quickly chased out after several teachers barged into the Literature Clubroom, presumably, after Tsuruya barged in, argued with Haruhi, and almost got into a cat fight, which I would have loved to see, especially when I saw Asahina-san get involved. Asahina-san! So cute!

There were students walking about the corridors, some hand in hand. Normally Haruhi would dash out of the classroom during break, probably to scout for students who sat in their chairs looking bored, and I would sit in the classroom to chat with Taniguchi and Kunikida. But Haruhi doesn't attend North High, and the other two are out with the flu.

Orihime and Hikoboshi did a good job granting Haruhi's wish to make the world revolve around her.

I returned to my lonely corner, without the usual people here to talk to. I wonder if in a few months, everything would be the same like it was back then. Like a fleeting dream, I'm sure this down-phase would pass.

Class would end right before lunch break started, according to the new schedule. I could go back home and waste my time doing nothing, but out of habit I found myself walking to the SOS Brigade's clubroom, officially the Literature Clubroom that was taken over by a god, seeing as I expected something to happen.

Nothing happened.

Nobody was there. Not even Nagato. The past few days when I arrived she would always be sitting in her corner, covered by her pink scarf, reading a book, and glance up to greet me.

I took a seat in front of the computer, tempted to search for the files Nagato had hidden a few days ago. There was no heater in this building, as this building only housed clubs that didn't receive much attention. If things were right, the Computer Research Society should be in the room next door.

Not that I'm interested, but being alone in this room, which was once full of life, now dead and empty, made me wonder if I had made the correct choice. Nagato's chair hadn't been set up yet, and it was cold. Cold when I walked to school today, cold when I walked around the corridors, cold when I sat here in the clubroom.

There was nothing new on the bookshelf, I saw, save for a book from the library. Time Enough for Love. Is that a Sci-Fi book? I guess some things don't change. I had a feeling of déjà vu, that I had seen Nagato read this book before, but it was probably just my imagination.

Déjà vu is a fairly common experience, after all.

I took the book from the bookshelf, immediately seeing the trademark Nagato bookmark peeping from the cover. Half-expecting there to be writing, Nagato's writing, I flipped to the page, and examined the book mark. Both sides. Nothing. I expected as much. Perhaps I had thought too much of the situation...

Cold. Looking into my bag, I took a small portion of bread out to eat. Since when did it taste so dull? Was life always like this?

Cloudy. From this seat I saw snowflakes lazily drift to the earth. They were taunting me, that's what they were doing. Taunting me for choosing to live in this world, for choosing to stay here, that's what they were doing. Where is everybody?

Bored, I turned my attention back I glanced through the table of contents of the book Nagato borrowed.

The Tale of The Man Who Was too Lazy to Fail.

The Tale of The Twins Who Weren't.

The Tale of the Adopted Daughter.

Boondock.

Da Capo.

"The Notebooks of Lazarus Long." Immediately I turned to the source of the voice, alarmed at the sudden intrusion. Who was this mind reader? The person who read what I was going to speak in my mind, the person who read my mind, is the person a psychic?

She had already opened the door part-way, the bespectacled girl, who wore a small smile I had yet become accustomed with.

"Do you like this book, Nagato?"

She nodded, "A lot." Still quiet and timid, I remembered why I decided to stay back here. At that moment I remembered of the Literature Club Application Nagato gave me about a week ago; I still hadn't taken the time to fill it out yet, and I was uncertain that I would even join.

Every school day starting this week I hung out with Nagato in the clubroom, often in silence, with occasional small talk. I would sit here, walk around, make us some hot tea, until it was time to leave. Lately she had been taking initiative in leaving first, as normally she would wait for me to declare that the day was done.

Peeping around on the computer the past few days revealed nothing of the novel I suspected Nagato was writing, which, of course, she probably wouldn't be writing because I was here with her.

So began another day in the Literature Clubroom. I returned her book, then Nagato took her place in the corner, and the familiar sight ahead led to my apparent gaze, which Nagato noticed, her eyes quickly darting from the book and my eyes every so now and then. It became extremely obvious to me that she wouldn't be making much progress on her library book like the other days unless I closed my eyes and looked the other way.

Which reminded me of something.

"Hey, Nagato, what kept you up?" Normally you would be in here long before I opened the door.

Quickly taking a glance at me, she turned her attention back to her book. That quick glimpse, I saw, revealed a rather embarrassed Nagato, something I wasn't used to seeing. What happened? It seemed as if she had a major mishap back in the classroom, as if she blundered something everybody should have known in front of everybody. I didn't know how smart Nagato was, but I knew she liked reading science fiction books, and that she didn't like to talk to others often. Asakura visited Nagato every now and then with a delicious meal, made evident when Nagato invited me to her apartment. That was different, too.

She looked at my shoulders, still not able to look at me in the eyes, I see. I found Nagato very cute, adorable, actually, since the days I began to spend time with her. She would blush involuntarily at the smallest things, chuckle heartily at several lame jokes I told her, and, most of all, she would smile.

In such a short amount of time I'd grown extremely fond of her smile, the curvature of her lips, I believed, would be comparable to Asahina's smile, if not even more, making any man instantly fall in love with her. Her smile was that brilliant.

A few moments would pass until she gathered the strength to speak. "A boy... a boy asked me out."

Warning. Warning! Immediately I sat straight, seeing Nagato's grip on her book tighten, her head hung low. "What did you say?" is what I would have said, but seeing her weak figure I decided against it. It must have affected her negatively in some way, greatly, where I wanted to pull a chair next to her and comfort her.

I could only imagine how it was for Nagato to be put directly on the spot like that. How she was able to get away from that boy, I wondered.

She's warm. That's what ran through my mind as I pulled a chair next to her, ignored her surprised expression, and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. She tensed; her book fell swiftly from her lap to the wooden floor, she found more interest in the book screaming "pick me up!" until she turned, slowly, to meet my eyes. That must have taken all of her willpower to do, I noted, because she only met me half-way.

"It'll be okay," my mouth uttered of its own accord. I was shocked, absolutely appalled, at what my mouth said. No, Kyon, you were never like this before. You were. You two were never alone when you asked about her well-being. "Nagato. Did he hurt you?" I'll do something about that bastard.

From her reaction, which consisted of more tension and bringing her legs to her chest, something probably happened. It was that painful...? How was she able to hide it earlier? Why would she come to the Literature Clubroom after that had happened? Now, I don't know exactly what this boy did to Nagato, I was never there, but wouldn't a normal girl run directly home away from the place the incident occurred?

I didn't mean to attack you, Nagato, I remember myself saying. For her to welcome me into the clubroom the next day after our engagement, for her to give me a Literature Club application that same day, must mean Nagato thought something differently about me.

What about this boy? Why did she have a different reaction?

She never responded, but, at least, she finally released her iron-shell. In time, I suppose, she'll tell me what happened on this day. The snow continued to fall, the flakes of ice swirling as they made contact with the window.

"Your... arm..." she stuttered. Oh. Right.

If anybody walked in right now, which I doubt would happen, they would definitely misunderstand what was going on right now. Should I be a girl, this scene would appear perfectly normal. But I wasn't, so if Taniguchi walked through that door, I would need to make up a story about why he caught us in this position.

Feeling a little bit embarrassed myself, I retracted my arm from her shoulders.

Nagato's bubble of personal space must be larger than the average human's, as sitting next to her revealed more glances, even sitting further at the computer desk she still felt somewhat uncomfortable.

That's what I gathered, at least, when observing her. Or could it be that she isn't used to receiving attention?

About two hours had passed since she came into this room. Nagato calmed down, and now I knew better than to poke around in this business. Something sensitive.

The snow melted into water, and the sun peeked from the clouds, shining a bit of warmth into the room. The courtyard below the second floor of the old building had nobody around, save for a tree which shed all its leaves for the season.

Nagato, her eyes following the trail of text on the book in her lap, looked surreal in the sunlight. I kept this to myself, not knowing how well Nagato would take compliments. She's cute, really.

The tea I brewed sat on the windowsill beside Nagato's spot, the steam cautiously rising into the air.

Warm. It wasn't cold anymore. That's what my hands told me, when I held the cup I brewed earlier. Evidently I noted two students walk across the courtyard, two girls, whom bore striking resemblances to Asahina and Tsuruya. Curious of their activities, I looked down, knowing the glare of the sunlight on the window would prevent them from seeing me.

Nope, nothing interesting. They engaged in friendly chatter while walking to the entrance of the school.

I remember the days when Asahina would brew the tea, dressed in her maid outfit. I have to make it myself, now.

But it's not too bad.

"Name..." Hmm?

Nagato stirred, her gaze fixated on the computer. "What about it?"

"...your name." Come to think of it, I don't ever recall telling Nagato my name.

Haruhi barged into the room, referring me as "John", which reached into Nagato's ears, which is probably eched into her mind by now. But anybody with common sense would be able to recognize that John Smith is not a typical name for a Japanese person. I'm pretty sure Nagato had common sense, unlike somebody else whose perception of reality seemed rather off at times, despite repeated assurance that her grip on reality is solid.

I told her my real name, one I hadn't heard myself say to anybody nor heard anybody call me by.

"...it's a nice name. I think it suits you." Her hands met each other and wouldn't let go. She didn't show her face, preferring her hands instead.

"I don't think it fits me. Just call me Kyon, that's what everybody else calls me." Stupid nickname my sister made up and spread around the school like crazy.

If Nagato were to call me by name in a conversation, I will die of a heart attack. Literally.

Nagato, I remembered, never, ever referred to me by name, only as "you". I wish for your return. Another trip to the library would be nice. If this message is displayed, you, me... I'm sure she had her reasons, I really didn't mind, I preferred "you" over Kyon, rather, because I didn't think too highly of that nickname.

She finally looked up. I watched her lips carefully, and, then, I knew I just died and went to heaven. I'm pretty sure it was her manner, the way she touched her lips, her expression, that probably changed my perspective on my nickname. So beautifully, that's what it was. Nagato never ceased to surprise me these days, everything she said or did pulled a vibrant response from me. Are you okay?

She would always say I'm fine, don't worry, or yes.

Knowing that Haruhi wouldn't drain my HP and MP for spending time alone with this shy bookworm, I suppose I did have greater freedom in this world. She would get on me if she saw me involved with another girl, romantically or not, and I would have to explain everything to her after she calmed down.

If you just told me that from the beginning, I wouldn't have grabbed you and thrusted you against the wall.

You never give me a chance to explain before hand!

That was, until I told you my name: John Smith.

"Yuki. Call me Yuki." One hand to her heart, one hand on the book. Nagato, do you interact with anybody else on a regular basis? Nobody else stopped by the Literature Clubroom besides me?

Was that why you gave me the Literature Club application? Because you didn't want to be lonely? Because you wanted to spend time with somebody?

That person went through the process in my place. That person... was you.

Nagato... I wonder if you waited in this room for all those months, just looking around, spending time by yourself, wanting to give gratitude but never finding the strength and courage to do so until just recently. But you found that strength within yourself, somehow, somewhere, you did. You gave me the application even though I assaulted you that day. The next day we walked home together, to your apartment.

The day after I arrived late to the clubroom, dragging several others with me. You eased yourself at my sight, but tensed when you saw others barge in. Worse was when Haruhi locked the door to the clubroom, getting that key from who knows where.

The supernatural event that I passed on, the questioning of Suzumiya Haruhi, Tsuruya taking Asahina away after asked for a meeting, Koizumi with his glued cheerful smile, Nagato, holding her book closely and observing from a distance.

We agreed that day to meet up. Us, complete strangers, all brought together by Suzumiya Haruhi. It seemed that either way, in any world, we were bound to meet up together again. Some things don't change.

I know what I have to do, Nagato. It's what you wanted me to do, right?

Even here, you feel lonely, despite distracting yourself by reading books.

The application made a slight noise as I turned to grab my belongings. She stirred as well, for reasons I knew too well. Nagato wanted to walk home with me today, again. (Or was it she wanted me to walk home with her?)

"Let's go home... Yuki."

It was that smile, her bright, adorable smile, that led me to believe this was the right choice.

Author's Notes In the light novels, Nagato has flat gray hair, while in the animation, Nagato has a lavender-ish hair color. What is that color called? An answer to the question would be helpful. From what I can tell, it's either "languid lavender" or "lavender purple".