Disclaimer:

Naruto is the creative property of Masashi Kishimoto, who created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Kishimoto-san belongs to their respective owners, such as references to, for example, Mahou Sensei Negima! is a creation of Ken Akamatsu, xxxHOLiC is a creation of CLAMP, The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi is a creation of Tanigawa Nagaru, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.


The Idiot's Guide to Nindo

Uzumaki Naruto no Tonsoukyoku / The Fugue of Uzumaki Naruto

Chapter 29:

25th Hour

A Naruto AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards


"Looks can be deceiving, but I am afraid we don't have time for the technical explanation for the key or hyperspace. Just use it as any key you would, and you will be fine. As for myself --- I must remain here."

I blinked.

"But --- but why?"

"HE's here," she hissed, her neon green eyes gleaming dangerously.

The air became heavy, suffocating and dreadful, a palpable fear stabbing me in the heart, as I became aware all too late of the sudden darkness. Black was everywhere, all encompassing, swallowing the light whole, and leaving just myself, Shion, these stairs, and the glimmering hypersphere. The black pylons crackled to life with a terrible whine, alien sigils and patterns, colored electric blue, dancing wildly across their throbbing surfaces.

Someone was here.

"Don't look back!" Shion commanded me, a fierce expression on her face, "You're not ready to face Him. He destroyed you before, and He could do it again just easily."

Him? He? Who?

"Run! All you can do right now is run forward! Suzumiya Haruhi does not have any time left; this World does not have any time left; nor do you have any time either. Run! Don't worry about me; you'll know what you need to do once you're inside."

"Che, you and Yuuko-san owe me a double date for this, Shion-chan! See ya," I spat back tersely before talking off.

Dammit, is running away all I'm good for or something?


Drip.

Drip.

W-Water...?

Drip.

Ugh, something smells --- stale.

Drip.

Drip.

Dammit, I really don't want to get up.

Drip.

Drip.

Please, somebody turn off the tap!

Drip.

Drip.

Wait, second that ain't water.

Drip.

That's...

Drip.

Blood!

I came to my senses rather quickly after that as I looked up to come nearly face to face with a rather iconic creature, hanging from the broken ceiling spread-eagle by wreathes of razor wire. Sure, I only ever sat through playing Doom --- once --- but I never forgot the Imp. Nasty little cannon fodder bastards: roughly humanoid in appearance, with grey skin, muscular bodies; ten beady orange eyes that glowed in the claustrophobic darkness of the UAC Mars facility; and bony scales covering their upper arms, topped off with elongated claws on their hands.

Oh yeah, does not help they are about 99.99 genetically identical to humans (according to the tech manual at least); gives you creepy ideas about the afterlife, if you know what I mean. In any case, somebody had turned this demonic beastie into his personal science projection: a clean incision from abdomen all the way up to the collarbone marked the beginning of the dissection. Entrails, blood, fluids; the nasty bits were hanging like macabre Christmas decoration all over the floor and overturned chairs...

Speaking of which, I seemed to be in a lobby of some sort, albeit this area of the building was strangely --- dilapidated. The depressing heavy air was stale and dank, rust and mildew pockmarked much of the visible furnishings, lit dimly by the green and red emergency lights still active. Broken pipes and wiring ruptured out haphazardly from the sunken ceiling, like the floor above me was about to come crashing down on top of my head.

Now, why the hell would I be in a lobby?

Hmmm...

Oh right, I seem to remember --- The Key.

And then there was a flash of light...

...oh damn.

So this is the hospital.

Tsk.

Tsk.

Tsk!

Damn, I should have figured Suzumiya Haruhi to be a dramatic sci-fi obsessed, neurotic otaku! Why did it have to be a number straight from a survival horror game, too? I hate Silent Hill! I really, really hate it with a burning passion.

"As expected o' de death throes o' an adolescent God, eh, mate?" a masculine voice spoke to me in perfect British english. More surprising, I actually understood all of that as if I was bilingual for real. "That girl really is a mega otaku, if I should say meself."

Wait...

Huh!

There was a panting dog sitting on its haunches beside me: a Shiba Inu. A small breed of hunting canine; I could not tell what "his" colors were exactly, but the straight outer coat appeared to be predominately auburn, while his undercoat was a soft, dense white. His little eyes seemed to gleam at me in the dim light with an unsettling bemusement, as he held up a velvety paw seemingly in greeting.

"Evenin', Guv'nor, and welcome ta de Crazy Rocky Horror Show Silent Hill edition o' Nishinomiya General Hospital, the dirge of a dying God! I be yo' host and hand o' Casuality, Shiba Inu: glad ta make yo' acquaintance."

...holy.

Did the dog just...

"Did --- Did you just --- talk?" I ventured hesitantly to shake the dog's paw.

"Blimey, and do you'ze fluoresce green and yellow naturally? You be loik a walking neon lamp in de dark!"

"Uh...well, that's just the quantum data of this META-body --- well --- degrading apparently," So it's not my imagination.

"Wot? You don't even have yo' own body? Hell! And where's yo' arm an' o'der at, crazy? You only got one left o' each, ya blood git. How do you expect ta save de world wit' just one arm, an eye, and a false body 'bout ta fall apart?"

"I dunno, damn you. I'm only in this for a girl or two," I raged back defensively.

At my retort, Shiba Inu looked positively mystified, cocking his head aside in wonder:

"Seriously?"

"Of course!"

"Bah, that's as good motivation as any, al-roight. Let's get this party started: I don't wanna be here when de big bad wolf outside comes a-knockin' and you don't got any time left, so here's the lowdown on what you gots ta do."

"Let me guess, find a weapon."

"De lad's a genius! I knew video games were good for something."

"And I got an hour left, right?"

"Blimey, took de words right out of me mouth. What's next?"

I shrugged. This is the super eccentric Suzumiya Haruhi, and the apparent God of this world. How was I supposed to know the inner workings of a supposedly omnipotent, omniscient, and --- I think I've run out of omni-words... But you get the picture, right?

"...You got me."

It was the first time I ever saw a dog do a spit take in disgust, though the said physical act was oddly similar to a cat spitting out a hairball, "Che, that's just mean, mate! And I thought I wouldn't 'ave ta do any work at all. Party pooper!"

"Errr, I'm sorry?"

"Sorry, don't cut it! This is my Guiness Time we're talk-ing about 'ere. Bah! Anyways, you gots to figure out what 'appened ta Suzumiya Haruhi within the time limit and confront de Truth."

"The Truth?"

"Aye, it's only something a bloody fool like you can do, so get moving ya git! Time's a-wasting away. Oh, and before I go: be careful in these parts. Dis Hospital be far from safe haven. Got some unpleasant folk in 'ere wit' ya, not to mention de place be fallen a-part too. Back tracking is probably gonna be out of de question, so plan your route carefully. Though, personally, I'd try the records room in the west wing first..."

Oh great, just what I needed to make the last moments of my life even more...

"Good luck, Hero! And remember, you have the power to create a miracle!"

...what?

Damn.

The mutt was gone. I only turned my attention away from him for what --- a second or two? --- and the guy goes ahead and abandons me just like that! Whoever said dogs were a man's best friend must have been paid "mad money" by the RSPCA for lip service.

An eerie shiver up my spine, finally alerted to me to just how cold and alone I was, breaking me out of my rambling, which I imagine could have gone on for quite some time. Simultaneously, an inborn instinct of mine (I imagine) pointed out another detail abruptly, the coldness of the humid air --- was --- unnatural. If the air conditioning in the building had failed, then why was not this place a sweltering swamp? Conversely, just who would enjoy keeping the temperature this low anyways?

"Argh, must be to make the atmosphere that much more nasty; thank you very much," I mumbled as my gaze surveyed the ominous lobby, ignoring the hanging corpse from the sunken ceiling above me.

I was not leaving here until I found a weapon, and definitely, one I could wield competently with just one arm. Of course, as luck would have it, I managed to find one with the first step I took. In fact, it would have made a rather nasty gash on me (or at least a bruise), if I did not hear the tell-tale "squelch" of it coming loose.

Instinct drove me back, and I spied a bloody blur slip passed my limited field of vision, before it clattered wetly into the pool of blood below the imp's hanging corpse. A crimson soaked machete with a wicked hook on the head, making it seem more like a perverse knife for butchering men than an implement for clearing land. I imagine it must have been buried somewhere in the eviscerated creature before it came loose; rather nasty way to go, but hey, no sympathy for the devil here.

I did my best to ignore the copious amounts of congealed blood coating the thing --- sticky and cold --- in my hand, as I proceeded over to the reception desk. The cleaver's sturdy weight, at least, was reassuring. Something real and tangible in my extraordinarily absurd circumstances that I for one was certain could split open an ordinary --- "humanoid" --- like a water melon with ease. Finding a disposable disinfectant wipes, I quickly set about cleaning my weapon to an acceptable shine: my tool for "death-dealing" was about thirty-eight centimeters (fifteen inches) by my reckoning and a solid two kilos (five pounds).

A few practice swings left pleasant ambient cuts through the air that immediately grew to my liking. The wooden handle already felt familiar in my right hand, and I was ready to "kick ass and chew bubblegum, and I am all out of a bubblegum) so to speak. If this was how Suzumiya wanted to play it, well, who was I to argue at this point?

"Three, two, one --- no one behind me, no one in front of me. Ready or not, here the Demon comes!"

Morbidly, so I thought hide and seek it was, and I was the Oni.


Dim.

Spooky.

Claustrophobic.

Paranoia.

Oh yeah, I was never a big fan of hospitals, at least as far back as my memories could take me, and even now, the fact remains the same. Always I sensed there was something --- oppressive --- about the extreme cleanliness of hospitals, the white washed walls, and the constant filtration of white noise, courtesy of the air conditioning/filtration systems did not help either. Sure, there were plenty of people buzzing about in a constant synergy of activity in this place of "healing" and such.

What I would give right now to be in the presence of those people.

For all intents and purposes, I was sufficiently armed by "survival horror" standards, that is "almost" naked. The machete was my only defense against whatever nightmares Suzumiya Haruhi had thought up as she lay dying, waiting for the inevitable in a near-death coma. Too bad, my handle on reality was slowly being eroded away in this --- God (no pun intended forsaken -- place.

Wait a second? A near-death coma? Where did that crazy idea come from? Speaking of which, did not the mutt say something about death throes?

No way. Suzumiya could not seriously be dying could she? Nah. That just does not add up; the last time I saw her --- hell, the whole time I have been "alive" Suzumiya Haruhi-san was as healthy as any eccentric otaku girl could be! What could have...

Okay, this paranoia has got to stop! I am thinking way too hard and its bordered on delusions. Hell, this place is driving me nuts as is: the west wing was bathed in a constant alien green glow and patches of black shadow, thanks to the intermittently placed emergency lights. The windowed portholes on the doors, some ajar and some closed, hinted seductively at the terror unseen and beyond my restricted sight.

Water dripped constantly from the fractured ceiling panels. My steps echoed almost alternatively between an eerie hammering staccato on dry areas of floor space, like nails into a coffin, and a persistent wet squelch. I was in an heightened state of awareness, seeing red so to speak; adrenaline flowing like a river of cheap alcohol, my survival instincts on the fritz. Granted, I have never touched a drop of sake in my life --- or lives --- to the best of my knowledge, but I imagined getting drunk could not begin to compare to this --- intensity.

And then, it had to happen.

I'm not certain where it came from exactly, but I could have sworn I heard a flutter of cloth. Haunting girlish giggles followed my swift turn to check my six-o-clock; my hampered vision scanning furiously for a sign. Then a bang went off, like the explosive sound of a door being slammed shut, and I whirled about again, a guttural snarl ensnaring my face as a rush of whispers and open mocking laughter grated at my ears.

"Where are you? Show yourself!" I raged back.

More doors were opening and banging shut incessantly; the cacophony of voices rising louder and louder. Fear; paranoia: I felt trapped --- cage, like an animal in somebody's private, and they --- whoever they are --- were rattling this damned place like a toy. Yes, they wanted to see a reaction from me; something that would amuse them.

Bastards!

I would...

Suddenly, it was stark still. Like some jerk had gotten his hands on the volume control at the dance club and turned down to zero in a heartbeat.

I am so going to kill...!

A moan: the prolonged, low, inarticulate sound uttered from or --- as if in physical or mental suffering; painful, mewling. Bewitched, the rustle of cloth moving drew me ahead towards a vague silhouette clearing up in macabre detail. A hospital bed where it should not be, left unattended in the hallway against a darkened window. The once white sheets bloodied and soiled to a rusty luster from whence a bulbous humanoid figure stirred beneath the dirty blanket, bearing a voice that was both man and woman. A hand, an arm had snaked out from beneath the folds, grasping weakly upwards towards the ceiling: long nails black as obsidian, the flesh a pale pallor of sickly grey with bone and muscle alike beneath the surface pulsing visible.

Rotten.

Death.

Decay.

It was starting to get up. The blanket slipping away: hair of brown, a mockery of woman, horribly swollen, and her abdomen...

"DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Splatter.

"DIE!"

Splatter.

"DIE."

Splatter.

"Die!"

Splatter.

"Die..."

Splatter.

"J-Just...die..." I breathed in a hoarse whimper, as I continued to rain blow after blow until all life had been extinguished.

The walls and the floor gleamed a fresh, dark coat of red under the light of green. Blood and gore dribbled off the end of the machete, a testament to my --- murder. No! No, it was not murder. It was --- survival! Yes, this --- monster --- a pale imitation of a woman in pregnancy, bloated perversely, with strange red markings on her stomach...!

I screamed, crushing the grotesque bubble face beneath my heel, with sickly wet crunch. I-I --- I had to d-deny the --- abomination. I-!

No...

No.

No!

Those markings; where have I seen them before?


Disconnection.

Distorted.

Decoration.

Disassociation.

Denial.

Discord.

Decoherence.

Detachment.

Disorder.

Daydream.

Mother.


Entanglement.

I came to consciousness with a feral scream at the top of my lungs, my blood soaked machete swinging, splintering into the faux-wooden door with a crash.

Hyperventilation. Breathe. Pain. Blood. Head messed up! White noise. Fear. Adrenaline. Hot. Cold. Everything all at once, every sensation: overload. My memories were a mess. Where was I? Who was I? What is...

No!

NO.

Do not remember. I do not have time to remember! My wounds --- my wounds have begun to open up. I can see the sparkling mist of green and yellow quantum particles seeping out faster than before, illuminating my presence brighter. Just feel! What? What was I doing before?

Yes, that's right. I ran. I ran fast because the darkness was coming. Records... Yes, the records room: bloated corpses, a lighter, a silver white revolver --- one bullet --- turned pitch black at the touch, blacker than night, and case file #8, order #88. Suzumiya Haruhi.

Suzumiya Haruhi: female, age sixteen. Unable to reach next of kin or relatives. Processing... Admitted April 21, 200X post-haste from location of traffic altercation to Intensive Care Unit operating room 101. Diagnosis...severe trauma, internal bleeding, multiple fractures, broken, infection... Surgery... Prognosis...near-death. Moved to room 305, East Wing...

Tampering...

Wait! April, that date... That's the same day before the school opening ceremony when I --- woke up. "Traffic altercation" must be medical jargon for a traffic accident, and if so, does it mean she got in a car accident? Argh, that's not possible. The timeline of events, what I experienced, and what is here does not add up.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Is this the east wing? The emergency lights here were different; all of them were red, cutting my visibility down. Look! The sign above me read clearly, thanks to the back lit neon panel, that this was my stop: the Room 305. And what did you know? It was still visitation hours as the neon sign changed from red to green, and the double doors gave an audible click.

Green.

"Green" meant "Go"; yes, he had to go. There was no turning back; no time; the only path was forward because the darkness was coming. With a grunt of effort, I dislodged the machete, earning a groan of protest out of the door. However, before my hand even had a chance to touch the doorknob, something --- bad --- just had to happen.

FWOOSH.

IMPACT.

Hot.

Burning.

Fire!

Instead of panic, a primal instinct for survival --- someone else's...far older than I could imagine --- kicked in automatically, commanding me to roll about frantically to extinguish the flames eating up my jacket. I heard and I obeyed without question, and luckily, the pipes on this floor were broken too, as I was able to quickly smother the flame in a nearby pool of brackish water. Subconsciously, however, it seemed my mind was already light years ahead of where my consciousness, urging me to evade.

I rolled out of the way of a second roaring impact: bright and hot, the heat searing to my flesh. The attack had struck from my blind side, namely my left side where I no longer possessed an eye. Knowing where my opponent was roughly, my instinct spurned me to take the offensive, though I only had a vague idea of what my foe could do: that is, throw fireballs.

But what else coule he, she, or it do?

Well, it did not honestly matter anymore. I rose, charging through the spluttering fire and smoke; fear registering just for split-instant before it was washed away under a tide of desperation and adrenaline. In the heady trance of the moment, I felt invincible, as the bloodied machete hummed through the air, an overhead swing crashing down on the enemy.

Blood and gore splattered across my arm and face, blinding me suddenly as some of it found its way into my eye. I reared back with a howl, letting go of the machete, clawing at my face to scrub away the bothersome material. Blinded and stumbling wildly then, did I begin to hear: its voice.

Disjointed.

Female.

She was crying out in denial between sobs and whimpers:

"No. This... I-Iya! WHAT... Iya! Isn't... No! To me... Hah! He said-! Dream...another... No-! Fake... No dream-! Ponytail! My hair...!"

Delerious.

"If only my hair were longer! Then-then, I... I could make a ponytail, and then-!"

I knew that voice.

"Su-S-Suzumiya Ha-Haruhi!" I breathed in disbelief.

What I had mistaken for a nightmarish creature come to life from her imagination was none other than Suzumiya herself! What have I done? Have I just killed Suzumiya Haruhi? No, this has to be a bad joke.

"Ha ha..."

What?

"AH-HAHAHAHAHA!"

She's laughing?

Impossibly so... Hell, she should have been dead the moment my machete cleaved through her skull! Suzumiya Haruhi still lived, and she was transforming right before my eyes. The her skin paling visibly in the nearly dead flames to a sick lifeless white, as her dark hair grew and grew, spilling all over the floor. Gone were the whites in her remaining eye, replaced by pitch black, and her irises a glowing, piercing red. Blood ran from the wound, an illuminant molten tar, as if she were an inferno burning within. The terrifying sight was deathly familiar to me for she began to stagger towards me, her posture slumped forwards at a broken hunch: a china doll who had just been cut lose from her strings.

Hands roving, searching...

"Look! Hey, look at me, Kyon! My hair... It grew. I can make a po-ponytail, just like y-you like --- it. K-Kyon, look!"

The crash of doors being splintered open throughout the hallway drove me out of my morbid stupor. I was aware that I was no longer alone as tortured moans ushered themselves in, accompanied by the painful shriek of metal scraping against metal. Cold fear threatened to paralyze me and quite frankly did after all, until cold steel came whistling through the air.

Now, it was my turn to scream in pain for a change, like a fire had exploded in chest. Struck from behind, something black and red was protruding out of me, thinner than a soda bottle but long enough to be a lance, and oh, how crude it was...not even a proper weapon, just a jagged cylindrical piece of rusted iron. And Suzumiya was still coming...

"Oh... You can't heart me. I'm too far away... Ha ha... HA-hahahah! I know; I know. I-I c-come...! Coming! Kyon!"

With a newly granted life, her hair struck with the whiplash force of a snake's sudden bite. Splotches of red and black filtered across my vision: confusion and pain sweltered in my consciousness, a miasma leading the way to the swamp of death. I had been captured, like a butterfly in a spider's web. Vague forms of tall figures with pyramid-shaped heads were approaching Suzumiya from behind, unbidden shadows gaining life and definition.

Was this the end?

No...

No.

No!

The door was still right there. The only remaining door. Lit by the light of green: I have to get free. I have to go, by any means necessary. Arm...still somewhat...free...

The lighter!

"Look! Please, K-Kyon!" she wailed again.

Nothing personal, Suzumiya Haruhi-san. I really do not know what happened here or what is even going on, really. All I know is the world is about to end, and I have to stop it. Maybe you are the real Suzumiya-san, and maybe you are not, just like how I am not the real Kyon.

Which is why I can do this...!

"Burn," I coughed, my expression twisting into a sneering grin.

Scream.

My name.

No.

His name! Over and over!

Escape.

Door.

White.


When the world returned to focus, I was somewhat pleasantly surprised.

KRA-TAK.

Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and I have expected rain to start beating me down into the ground. However, none of my dark expectations were to be fulfilled in the ringing white noise that flooded my ears. I was barely lucid at this point, the veil of death beginning to descend upon me so it seemed by the terrible cold and weariness encroaching upon my limbs, making me tired sleepy. My complexion was awash with sweat, growing paler by the second, but...

No.

I could not stop yet.

Besides, I could smell --- roses, and oddly enough, they were reminiscent of sweet tea. How funny; I seem to recall spending many a Sunday afternoon on Yuuko-san's porch with Shion serving tea to all of us. But here was different; there was disinfectant in the air with a faint stinging lime scent. Everything was pure and clean, though the weather outside was storming and dark.

I felt a strange calm in this room: dimly lit with a respirator and a pair of beeping ECG (electrocardiogram) and EEG (electroencephalogram) machines hooked up to a vague figure lying on the pure white hospital bed. Had I finally made it out of that nightmare? If so, I suppose this place would not be a bad place to pass on...

"You're bleeding all over the floor," a condescending voice spoke to me, devoid of any compassion at all.

A young man my age stood towering over me; how I did notice him standing so close to me before I can only blame on my deathly trance. I was seriously running out of time, and each passing moment only made me feel more --- relaxed. Ack, have to stay awake... Pretty tall for a Japanese kid: brown hair, brown eyes, and all around totally average, errr, plain looking. No offense meant. Oh, and he's wearing my high school uniform too...

But, dang, that --- apathy. Geez, he could freeze seas into ice and turn water into wine with --- that gaze.

Wait a second, I'm bleeding! I'm...coughing up blood; my blood. Red! I thought this body was supposed to be a fake, temporary --- why is it behaving like a real one now?

"Who are you?" he asked me. What the hell was wrong with this guy? I am kind of half-dead here!

How absurd. How utterly absurd! I collapsed to my knees, holding myself up with just my one arm, as I choked on a glob of phlegm and blood, the ugly mess spilling out all over my mouth.

Now, it was my turn to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"The-There's...no --- time. The W-World... Su-Suzu-miya Haru-hi... No time!"

"...I see. You're the one Nagato was talking about three months ago. What are you? Another alien? esper? slider? or..."

"Omae... You --- you're the real Kyon, aren't you?"

"And what if I am not?"

"Che, that attitude, just like me-Kyon."

"Hmm?"

"The way you...think...is the same."

"The same?"

"I'm your shadow, hnnggkk! No time. Tell me: what? why? how?"

Kyon gave a pathetic chuckle, a gleam of bemusement sparkling in his eyes. Maybe this guy was even more crazy than me. "Explain? What's there to explain? If you're me from some parallel world or whatever, you should already know what happened!"

"No. A shadow is --- different. Suzumiya...made... Urghkk! Hurry. No time."

"It doesn't matter. Every-thing --- is my fault, anyway. I -- I abandoned, Haruhi."

Abandoned! Is this the reason why that other Haruhi...?

"I-I...I couldn't stop, dammit!"

What the? He's crying? His hands were balled up into trembling fists. Why?

"Mikuru-san... Nagato. Even that Koizumi-yarou... They're...they're-!"

Gone.

"I knew...I had to say something. Do something. To make her happy. But-! I... I couldn't stop... Listening; that Voice-! I couldn't stop. It-it said that it was not enough yet. No. Suzumiya Haruhi must reshape the World! A-And for this to occur...one --- heh-heh heh --- final act was required."

That voice...?

"IT-it! It had --- My Face! A golden mask, a red eye. A bleach bone white skull... My face! What I-I --- really wanted-?"

Wow, the real Kyon just completely self-destructed on me in a span of like --- five minutes. This guy is supposed to be Suzumiya Haruhi's chosen one? No wonder she dreamed me up, except my bravado did not last too long, and before I knew it I was acting just like him. This is the type of person Suzumiya Haruhi likes? Shouldn't he be stronger, cooler than this or is the guilt seriously hitting him that hard?

Well, I guess, you should feel pretty guilty for causing the apocalypse, but if so, how has the World survived for three months? How is Kyon even still alive? He should have expired two months ago either from starvation or dehydration!

Oh, forget it. For some reason, dying slowly has made me sane again, judging by my rambling. Right...time to save the World.

"All right, enough of that," I told him, my voice eerily calm and serene, despite the mesmerizing veil of death descending upon me. Hell, I felt like I could take on the world right now!

"H-Huh?"

"We're almost out of time, so I'll save my techno-spiritual jargon, and ask you this plainly: Kyon, do you believe in fairy tales?"

"Not...not really..." he shot me a defensive look.

"Liar."

"Gyeh!"

"In any case, Suzumiya Haruhi-san certainly believes in them, or why else would she have held out for this long?"

"H-Haruhi...?"

"Believe me or not, she still cares about you and wants you back, man."

The phrase: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned comes to mind, and this twisted nightmare born from Suzumiya seems to be a perfect example. However, a gut feeling tells me there more here than meets the eye. Why else would that Suzumiya out there have been crying out for Kyon? In fact, if "God" really wanted to remake the world, what could possibly stop her other than herself?

God.

Yes, that answers a question. She's been keeping Kyon alive all this time, waiting for him no doubt, except he was too big of a guilt tripping jerk to forgive himself. But what could hurt a God? What happened exactly that would have put Suzumiya Haruhi in a dying coma like this?

That voice? Argh, I'm rambling again. Let's hurry and end this drama already.

"Ever hear the story about Sleeping Beauty?" I spoke, shocking Kyon out of his stunned shock.

"Sleeping Beauty...? What's that --- no way. No way! You expect me to do something like that?"

"Don't you believe in miracles?"

"Lightning does not strike twice!"

"Oh, so something like that has worked before. Guess Yuuko-san didn't tell me to remember Sleeping Beauty for nothing."

"Yuuko-san? Who's..."

"Doesn't matter. No time. Just kiss the girl, and I'll handle the rest."

"And just what are you going to do?" Kyon eyed me suspiciously.

I answered him, hardly noticing the strange words that came unbidden to my mouth, "Something only I can do. The reason I was born for in this temporary life. I am your shadow, your temporary replacement, that which shall grant a miracle: memory and life."

"H-Huh?"

"Just get on with it, ya jerk! You kissed her before, didn't ya? Now, you get to do it again! Sheesh. And gimmie the word, when you're ready."

"Al-Alright, I get it."

Good man; now, how do I go about doing this? Man, it's starting to get really dark and hazy. Am I drunk, sleepy, tired, or all the above? Dunno. Feels really cold too. Can't wait to go home for that double date with Shion-chan and Yuuko-san. Oh, that's right! This crude metal thingie stickin' through me is interrupting the circuit! I see. I see. All I have to do is remove it and everything will work just as planned. I'm such a genius-dattebayo!

"I'm --- I'm good!"

"On the count of three then."

Three.

Two.

One.

Happy Birthday, Suzumiya Haruhi-san.

Goodbye.


Clatter.

The sound seemed to extend into infinity: echoes. A plane of white I stood upon in the directions of north, south, west, east, center, up, and down. I was everywhere and nowhere at once. The faux body was gone and I had returned to just degrading bits of quantum data, sparkling yellow and green, like a funeral pyre of fireflies flitting about my person. I was virtually just half a head, pieces of a torso, an arm, a leg, and a tattered jacket.

Success.

Failure.

I knew not, just a slim hope I could enjoy my last moments of consciousness in silence. It would all be over soon, I hoped.

Unfortunately, I was helpfully reminded I was still the manwhore of "The will of the universe" in a big bad way, namely The Big Bad Boss decided to pay me a visit. Never wanted to meet 'im. Never wanted to see 'im. But considering, I just managed to foil his scheme with a significant setback, I guess he wanted to say "Hi."

The white plane rumbled, a thunderous ripple shaking its very foundations, accompanied by loud rapping noises, as if fists were banging on "the cage." Cacophonic noise and static assailed the ears, vision distorted and warped, and sensation burned to a crisp. The ground bulged and wailed, straining against a force pushing in, bubbling before a mass of black tar exploded outwards.

Like an invasive parasite, it devoured the "white" hungrily, fueling its growth. The tear in sanctity became a rift, powerful and insatiable. It would not be stopped, cannot be stopped...

The abyss.

Pitch black all around, and yet I still stood, a glowing will-o-wisps in the pit of Hell.

W-h-y?, a masculine voice spoke, a perfect mimicry of my own.

I was reluctant to answer, but when the darkness stirred, I found I could no longer remain silent as I was face-to-face with myself: a face god-like in proportions, staring balefully down at me, cold eyes like chips of ice. For the first time, I finally noticed too the whisker-like slashes in my cheeks: birthmarks or tattoos? And so very unusual...

D-e-f-i-a-n-c-e.

No sound escaped his lips and yet it was as if a mountain were speaking to me, an overwhelming volcano, immense and overwhelming.

W-h-y?

I was tempted to answer with something, anything. The sight of this being stirred deep burning fires of revulsion and resentment, as if he were an anathema to life. Alas, the strength in my body was waning fast, making such a reply impossible. However, something did come to mind:

The Gun.

F-u-t-i-l-e.

True, I only had one bullet in the chamber.

F-e-e-d.

The big bastard opened his maw and I was stunned to see a sea of stars within, sparkling and shining, entire cosmos and universes laid bare before my eyes. Stronger, the feeling of revulsion grew, as if I knew this to be unnatural, unforgivable: so much life squandered. And for what? For whose sake?

Nothing.

Nothingness.

Nihil.

No. Now, was not the time for him to face this thing yet. Here, there was only death, and the Kyuubi's effort would be for naught. He had been given a second chance and he would not squander it.

Escape.

Yes, now he understood the true purpose of finding: the Gun. So obvious, as he turned the barrel unto the side of his fleeting face with a smirk.

Bang.


"Hu-man, can you hear me?"

A sky of blue and white clouds.

"Hmph, not that it matters. You won't remember either way."

The blowing wind, singing a gentle breeze.

"Still, I have to congratulate you. There may be hope for you yet."

A grassy hill of green.

"We are on our way to another world as we speak. I have received word, apparently, that this upcoming mission will be key in restoring Infinite Time by reconstructing one of the seven Sephiroth consumed by the Great Enemy."

Rustle.

"The --- allies --- are working on similar efforts, but should one of us fail --- all will be for naught. Nihil's eyes and ears are everywhere and nowhere at once, but luckily, even a god has rules to follow in this grand game. He cannot be unless he is called for and the way opened to him. Still, such a vehicle of entry is easily exploited by the likes of him for this is a game he has played a very long time."

Wonderful.

"Hu-man, we will likely not share the same body in the world to come, but even so, we are inseparable: you and I are one. When the time is right, you will seek me out for power overwhelming, kukukuku"

Sun.

"Dream, Uzumaki Naruto."


To be continued...


Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Chapter 29 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the maestro here.

Tsudzuku!