- Chapter 3: College
Thursday, November 3, 2005.
A few days later, I had become so caught up in thinking about upcoming college exams that I almost missed a strange letter in my shoe locker. I'd been feeling oddly left out of the whole romance scene, so this came as a bit of a relief at first, but the note left me with more of a feeling of being played than any sense of actual courtship. The letter was sloppy, barely readable. It was written in a weird amalgam of guarded affection and overbearing boastfulness that seemed completely alien to me. Then there was the fact that I didn't know anyone who acted that way, and the letter made no mention of its author.
I had the brief impression that this had come from Ryoko Asakura, though that just seemed horribly wrong to me on every level. Asakura was still looking a little worn-down (so much so, that I began to think of that trait as part of her personality) and there was the matter of Asakura being one who would never use letters to express her affection. In fact, I'm not completely sure Asakura had any honest affections. It crossed my mind that Haruhi might have written it, but that was laughable. Haruhi making any kind of literary composition? Hilarious.
I spent the day trying to remember everyone I had encountered over the past two-and-a-half years, and I just kept drawing a blank when trying to connect them to this weird letter. I came to the conclusion that it was all part of some weird prank by someone in the student council. Haruhi often liked butting heads with them over matters of school policy, activities, and as a point of pride. I wouldn't put it past one them to get the idea of involving me in some weird scheme of theirs.
There was never any lack of other weird intrigue over the past couple years. Some minor alien group or another would appear and cause trouble, or some rebellious espers would try to confuse things, or some kind of harmless temporal paradox would suddenly thrust itself into and out of existence. It was all very stupid and predictable, and there's no point in me making further note of it. It simply occurred to me that this letter could have been one of those things.
The thing that settled the matter for me was that it seemed to make reference to some kind of rendezvous at the club room, though I wasn't sure I was reading that right. I went to the club, armed with the usual memories of my indignities, and preparing to show myself even more worthy of merit than usual. I may not have a lot of experience with romance, but I do have my pride. When I entered, I noticed that Haruhi was the only one currently in the room. This had started to become the usual pattern for various reasons.
"Hey," I said, taking a seat at the table.
"Hey," she answered from behind the computer.
"You see Nagato?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "Why?"
"She got in another fight?" I asked.
"How the heck should I know?" she answered.
Nagato had started to become a little notorious for fighting, though no one spoke of it too openly. It just seemed like a daily occurrence over the past few months, and I wondered what it portended. If anyone deserved to be involved in fights, it was surely Haruhi, though I knew from experience that fights rarely involved people who deserved them.
"Sheesh," I complained. "It's like the only way she knows how to make friends, I guess."
Haruhi remarked, "I doubt she's the one starting it."
"Oh, I know," I agreed. I then asked, "You see Koizumi?"
"Yeah," she answered. "That was some performance."
"Fighting the good fight," I added.
The student council had just this morning confronted Koizumi over his involvement in this club, and that had prompted a long, scathing rebuke from him. Koizumi rarely steps into any kind of fray, and his normal responses to trying situations is absolutely always to mollify or find a compromise. So, to see him reading back to them chapter and verse of all their own indiscretions was shocking indeed. That alone might make a good story, but I digress.
Haruhi softly commented, "I think the student council should quit while they still have a little dignity."
"You heard what he said about them?" I asked.
"They're gluttons for punishment," she explained. "I don't know. Maybe they enjoy it."
"True enough," I agreed, rubbing my hands for warmth.
Haruhi seemed strangely distant, and I had noticed that she wasn't as willing to discuss the day's tensions as she normally would. Maybe she had caught wind of this letter, but then she surely would have mentioned it. I was about to continue studying my biology texts, but this mystery was really starting to bug me.
"You hiding something over there?" I asked.
"No," she replied.
As usual, she was hiding behind the computer. How she had acquired the computer in the first place was a bit of a mystery, and I wondered whether that trickery was coming back to haunt her at last.
"Oh, come on," I insisted. "You're always hiding something. What is it, this time?"
"Nothing," she insisted.
I warned her, "Don't make me have to come over there and see for myself."
"Jerk," she said.
This was such a familiar insult that I laughed. If she were really upset with me, I think she'd try to flatter me into some cruel device of hers. I commented, "This is why no one wants to join the club, you know?"
"Mind your own business," she added.
I shook my head and sadly remarked, "If it weren't for all the games I keep bringing in..." I probably wouldn't have bothered showing up for club, had I not kept myself interested with all these games I had left lying around here.
"I'm not hiding anything," she flatly stated, "and you should know better than to not believe me."
"Right," I said, probing her face.
"It's true," she repeated, sounding like she believed it.
"You get caught up in another forum spat?" I guessed.
"Of course not," she replied. "I don't argue. That's just lame."
"You just like trolling and running, right?" I asked.
"The computer isn't even connected right now," she informed me.
"It isn't?" I asked.
She explained, "The computer club said they needed to run new wiring."
"Oh, I see," I said. "Upgrading. Yeah, it's probably about time."
"I don't see what's taking them so long."
"They're 'testing' their end. That undoubtedly means..."
"Right. They're screwing around. I need to remember to go knock some sense into them again, later."
"Don't forget your plus-five mace of moe."
"Jeez. The things you remember when it's convenient for you."
"I surprise myself sometimes."
Making odd references to old role-playing game challenges was all well and good, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Haruhi really was hiding something. It then occurred to me that she had lied to me on occasion about Asahina or about the club or any number of things.
"You're plotting something, right?" I asked.
"What?" she said.
"Yeah," I said, just going by the feeling in the air, "you're up to something. I see right through it. I'm just going to wait here and confront this person myself."
"Who are you talking about?" she asked.
I took out the letter and put it onto the table, saying, "Whoever dropped me this letter in my shoe locker. It's some kind of prank, right?"
"What makes you think that?" she asked.
I replied, "The only way it could get more cliche would be if it had told me to meet them on the school roof. I wasn't born yesterday. And you knew about this, right?"
"Idiot," she muttered.
"What?" I asked.
"Can't you tell by looking at it?" she scowled. "I wrote it."
"You did?" I said, unable to fathom it, yet somehow fully seeing it for the first time very clearly.
I took the letter out of its envelope again and started to analyze it. Nothing contradicted what Haruhi was telling me, and I couldn't see how I didn't realize it before, yet I also understood perfectly why it never occurred to me in the first place. The rational part of my mind immediately supplied me with a sensible answer: the effect of perspective.
Here's a fun thing you can try at home: take three containers of water. Cool one, heat the other, and leave the third alone. Put one hand into the cold and the other into the hot. Wait a few minutes, then stick both hands into the container of normal water at the same time. You'll immediately understand what I was going through at that moment.
She added, "I can't believe you don't recognize my handwriting."
"You wrote this?" I asked, still unwilling to accept it.
She got up and started to become really upset.
"Do I have to repeat myself?" she fumed. "Yes, I did."
As I returned to looking at the letter, she snatched it right out of my hands and returned to her seat.
"Whoa!" I said. "Wait a second! Don't just..."
"It's my letter," she answered, grimly clinging to it. "I'll do what I want with it."
"But didn't you intend to...?" I started.
"I changed my mind," she interrupted. "You're too big an idiot."
"Oh, come on," I said, standing up and approaching her.
"I'm really regretting it," she added.
I took the letter back, and quickly backed away.
"Hey!" she protested.
"I like it," I explained.
"Give that back!" she demanded, trying to grab it back while I dodged.
"Why?" I asked. "So you can trash it? I don't think so."
"You just want to make fun of me," she complained.
"No, I don't," I answered. "I think it's cute."
She stopped and looked away, and I think that was the cutest thing I had ever seen.
I then added, "You have this really girly side. I like that. I'm not letting you have it back."
She then grimaced and nearly took the letter away from me. This was getting ridiculous, so I drew her close to me with her next attempt to take the letter. With her within two inches of me, I put my arms around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way.
"You see?" I asked.
She then immediately pulled away, punched me in the gut, and took the letter again.
"Jerk," she said, though her blushing told me a slightly different story.
"Oh, no fair," I gasped.
As she returned to her seat, I slowly caught my breath, trying to absorb all this. Haruhi had a thing for me? Weird. And somehow, I hadn't even noticed it. I tend to notice all the vile, ridiculous, self-contradictory things she does. So, why didn't I notice the one really good thing she must have been slowly veering toward over several years? Maybe that was the reason: I couldn't see it because it had snuck up on me.
"So..." I said. "You want to go to a restaurant or something? Maybe check out a movie?"
"I want to curl up in ball and die of embarrassment," she complained.
"I'm sorry," I explained. "It's just... I didn't expect you to have such a cute side."
"Why is that?" she asked.
"Well," I smoothly added, "you did tell me that love was like a sickness and that the last thing you wanted was to do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing."
"And you believed that?" she asked.
"Well..." I answered. "Yeah."
"Read between the lines," she snarled.
"Okay," I responded.
"Here," she said, handing me back the letter.
"Thanks."
"Jerk."
- x -
Friday, April 21, 2006.
Before long, I was off to college, and I found myself living in an apartment with Haruhi. I'm not quite sure of the details, but she had managed to find herself a job working in a kitchen across town. It didn't seem like she was taking the whole college thing too seriously, and I later learned that she had quietly withdrawn. I was starting to figure it out at this point, but it's probably just as well that I didn't know.
There wasn't a whole lot I could have done, given my money situation, and living with Haruhi was a lot better than I had imagined. I'm now contractually obligated to describe that time as "warm, happy, and full of exciting memories." You can probably read between the lines, especially you older readers.
I spent a good deal more time in the library in the early days, since that was the way I would actually learn. Goodness knows, you can't learn anything in those boring lectures they give in class. Not to mention, most of the material they insisted on presenting was stuff I'd already learned in high school.
Just as I began thinking about Haruhi, she appeared. I wasn't so surprised to see her in a library, as she knew I mostly tended to be here. It had the advantage of making her tone down the news a few decibels, and I like the thought of having a kind of home field advantage.
"Back from the trenches already?" I asked, having not expected to see her until Saturday.
"It was fun," she answered, smiling broadly.
"Really?" I asked.
"How's college life treating you?" she asked.
"I like studying," I lied. "What can I say?"
"Professional student?" she asked.
I agreed, "I can see myself in a post-grad situation, sure. I haven't figured out in what yet."
She sighed and almost developed a pouty look. I think she had started to notice that I tend to get turned on by that, so she made a point of consciously avoiding it.
"I definitely wouldn't want to be a cook," I added.
"Oh, no way," she said. "It's horribly competitive. This one girl who came through the kitchen just doing bus boy work got yelled at and then ran away in tears. I'd have felt sorry for her if I'd had the time."
"You like it?" I asked.
"I hit the jackpot," she answered.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She explained, "I ran into your dad on the way to his 'high school reunion.' He set me up with a friend of his. That's how I met the owner of this kitchen I've been training at."
Haruhi insisted on having doubts about my dad having gone to school in that area, though she knew better than to argue. I didn't know about the friend of his, though. Come to think of it, I didn't really know what she was doing, and I just assumed it didn't involve training. And right about then, I was starting to realize that Haruhi's "college" was some kind of work-related activity.
"You aren't working?" I asked.
"Call it on-the-job training," she answered. "Anyway, I've done well enough that I've been given a recommendation to a kitchen in the area, here."
"Wow," I said.
"Wow is right," she said. "I just had a chat with the head chef. I'm starting a line chef position on Monday."
I then commented, "Somehow, I never really pictured you as a cook, but... You've really made me change my mind."
I should emphasize that I really had no idea how good Haruhi was at cooking, and to have accomplished all that, she must have been as impressive as someone with years of professional training. It was surprising because I happen to know that she doesn't particularly like cooking, and I as often found myself preparing food as waiting for Haruhi to prepare it.
"Yeah," she said, "but I can't see myself as an owner of a restaurant. I'm not insane enough about any one particular type of food to ever get promoted beyond sous chef, I think. It's really kind of a temporary job."
"So, what are you going to do?" I asked. "Go into management?"
"I don't know," she answered. "Maybe being a cook will help me sort it all out."
"You could go to business school at nights," I suggested.
"Why would I do that?" she asked.
"Well," I replied, "even if you don't want to own, there's still room for being part of the restaurant process. You can help in the kitchen when things get hurried, then go back and do inventory when things slow down."
"I've thought about that," she said. "The problem is that high-scale restaurants tend to overstock. Their owners get really picky about this or that. And I can't see myself working in some family restaurant."
I took a moment to sort out those complaints, then suggested, "You could try and manage a small but well-respected shop."
"That's true," she admitted. "But I'd have to be the owner or at least become next-in-line for owning to get that kind of position."
I wasn't sure about that, but then I realized, "So, what you're saying is that you don't like management?"
"I love management," she answered, "but you always look at me funny whenever I try to do anything like that."
"I do?" I asked.
She replied, "You get this look on your face like I just stepped on a kitten or you start to look at me like my mother died. It's creepy. I don't want to keep having to confront that."
"I always just assumed you were reading my mind," I remarked.
She smiled and said, "I probably can do that on some weird level. So, you'd better watch out."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said.
For a discussion of the future and what people expected of her, this was a surprisingly pleasant conversation. I usually expect her to be upset or to throw a temper tantrum, but this tone was really nice. I had a good feeling about this turn of events, though that was dampened by the realization that she really wasn't going to be attending college any time soon in spite of the fact that she had earned a place and even seemed to be about to enter along with me.
"Speaking of weird things," she mentioned, "I ran into Mikuru again."
"Sheesh," I said, reflexively thinking of how beautiful that girl is.
Haruhi seemed like she understood what I was thinking, because she said, "It's so weird to think you're speaking to a time traveler, but she doesn't really look or act anything like what you'd imagine from one."
"What did she want?" I asked.
"I don't recall," she answered, "but I had a chance to interrogate her again."
"You went easy on her, I hope," I said.
She chuckled and remarked, "Old childhood friends are hard to let go, huh?"
"We weren't friends," I stated. "We were just in a really weird situation there."
"Which you never finished explaining," she complained. "I know. You promised not to tell. I'm starting to be cool with that."
"Just now?" I asked.
"It always used to piss me off, but now..."
"How long have we known each other? Six years?"
"More than that."
"Really?"
Let me stop you for a moment to mention that I have this problem with getting exact times right. I tend to exaggerate one way or the other. Lately, I've been trying to correct that problem, but it still trips me up, every now and then. When I was younger, in particular, I had a tendency to lie about my age. Not always, but every now and then.
Haruhi noted, "It's actually been seven years, plus a month."
"Is that right?" I asked, thinking that was a little long.
"You really suck at basic arithmetic, you know?" she said.
I sighed and admitted, "I did find myself punching in 'two plus two' into my calculator the other day. That was kind of..."
"You're turning into a math geek?" she asked.
"I hope not," I answered.
- x -
Sunday, February 11, 2007.
I have to say that while I have nothing against math geeks, I do dread the thought of becoming one. Not enough that I avoid them. I actually did have a few acquaintances in that department, but I often found myself hanging around with artists and philosophers. It gives me a richer appreciation for the human mind, considering the subjects that interest me are mostly concerning the abnormalities of the mind. The pinnacle of mental achievement is the artistic sensibilities of the most rational philosopher. At least, this is just my opinion on the matter.
Over the next year, while I studied in generic first-year classes, Haruhi was busy working her way up to head chef. She wasn't quite there yet, but I understood that she had achieved sous chef in what was thought to be an impossibly short amount of time, given her lack of formal training. It turned out that Haruhi had had many years of training on her own, using the wide variety of skills taught to her by Yahoo and Google. I also sometimes saw her reading, but always out of some really old cookbooks. You know the type? The ones from the sixties when they still used really nice heavy stock for pages and bright, coated stock for the cover? And it still only cost about eight hundred yen?
I had a lot of pleasant surprises over that time, but none quite as pleasant as seeing Asakura excel in her time at college. We took a lot of the same courses, so it made sense that we saw each other every now and then. Of course, she mostly hangs around with the more popular students. Even in college, I can't get away from those damn cliques. This is to be expected, of course, but I can't help but feel like it's really wrong.
One particular winter day, I was reading in the library. I was minding my own business, when Nagato came by the table I was at.
"Hey," I greeted her.
"Hello," she said.
"Haven't seen you in a while," I remarked. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Thanks," she said, taking out a pack of cigarettes.
"Oh, it's a no smoking..." I said.
"Okay," she said, putting them back. She then sat across from me in her usual, business-like pose. It was reassuring to see that she didn't apparently change in the time I had come to know her. This was getting to be a fairly normal pattern: we would meet and have a discussion of some kind, and she would treat the encounter as if we were conducting some kind of negotiation.
"That's a pretty nasty habit," I started.
"Yes, it is," she agreed.
"It kind of makes me sad," I admitted.
"Don't worry about it," she assured me.
"Oh," I said, "because you're an alien."
"That's right," she said.
"I keep forgetting," I added. "It's kind of cool, though. The whole culture clash thing, that is."
She then explained, "When my phobias don't dictate my nicotine addiction, my instincts compel me to eat fast food."
"That's quite a curse," I remarked.
"Yes," she said.
Nagato had mentioned that she had an interest in Haruhi, though I wasn't quite sure at the time what it was. To that end, Nagato had taken a job in the food service department at the kitchen where Haruhi was working. I sometimes wondered how she could deal with that, though not enough to go visit. That would just be too weird. I prefer to deal with Nagato in a more relaxed atmosphere, and the library is about as relaxed as it gets.
"So, why are you here?" I asked. "I can't imagine you wanted to talk to me about your phobias."
"Have you seen Itsuki Koizumi?" she asked.
I answered, "Not since the high school graduation ceremony. You still have something going on with him?"
"If by that you mean personal matters, that ended one week after it began."
"It did?"
"Yes."
"I never noticed."
I hadn't gone out of my way to avoid Nagato, but I do find myself being repelled by the thought of encountering Koizumi. Something about him just seems really wrong, and it did bother me a little that I was setting him up with Nagato, though I was also hoping for things to work out between them. I have to admit that I had had Nagato's benefit in mind, and the thought of Koizumi benefitting had never once crossed my mind.
"So, what happened?" I asked.
"Do you really wish to know?" she asked.
"I do, actually," I answered. "I was kind of pulling for you two."
She replied, "He has boundary issues."
"So, I noticed," I said. "What do you mean, exactly?"
"I caught him inspecting my credentials," she answered.
"Credentials?" I wondered.
She explained, "I always leave a wallet with fake credentials in a compartment at my apartment."
"Right," I said.
She continued, "It's a necessary precaution when dealing with certain enemy agents. He, however, took some of the details as informative and became defensive when he questioned me."
"Sounds pretty reasonable to me," I said, thinking of how I would react.
She then said, "I would have let the matter drop, but he questioned me at length about many other data decoys I have arranged."
"Decoys?" I asked.
She then explained, "He also exhibits a tendency to blame my altercations on my alien or my female status."
"He didn't realize that people were just picking on you?" I asked.
Just at that moment, Asakura sat down next to me and answered, "Nobody was picking on Nagato."
"Oh, hey," I said. "Nice to see you again."
Asakura continued, "You should know by now that all those fights were orchestrated."
"Is that true?" I asked.
"Don't bother asking her," Asakura said. "She won't give you a straight answer."
"That's enough," Nagato told her.
Asakura then asked, "Why don't you ever tell him? It's not like he isn't going to find out."
A lot of mystery surrounded Nagato, and I honestly wasn't all that surprised. She had a lot of difficulty communicating in those days. She would stupidly use more complicated words and expressions when a simple word or expression would have sufficed or even made a better connotation. It shouldn't come as a surprise that she would have trouble in other areas. Orchestrating fights was something else, though. I would have to rethink my whole attitude toward her, depending on her answer to that.
"About what?" I asked.
Asakura answered, "Nagato likes to play super hero in these types of situations. Especially when you decide to get all lovey-dovey with Suzumiya."
"Are you talking about previous time planes again?" I asked.
She answered, "It takes a decade or two, but she always transforms into the mysterious Harlequin."
"That sounds pretty cool, actually," I said.
"Oh yeah, it is," she enthusiastically agreed. "But the thing is that she can't just leap into that role. She has to practice. And guess who has to be backup in those situations where practice doesn't quite work out?"
"Okay," I softly remarked, "I'm going to assume that was a rhetorical question."
"And the real question is..." she prompted.
"Huh?" I said, thinking for a moment. "Oh, right. Why were you orchestrating fights with high school girls?"
It obviously should not have been difficult for Nagato to train against other aliens or street punks or even just at a proper dojo. A dojo would likely give you really lousy training, but it had to be better than battling with high school girls.
Asakura then told her, "Oh, come on. It's not like you have anything to lose by telling him."
"It was practice," Nagato admitted.
"And?" Asakura prompted.
"And stress relief," she added.
"And?" Asakura persisted.
"Okay," I said. "I think I've heard enough."
Asakura softly laughed and complained, "Spoil sport."
"So..." I said, thinking back for a moment. "What did you want with Koizumi?"
"I was..." Nagato started
"She was jealous," Asakura interrupted.
"I'll leave the two of you alone," Nagato said, getting up to leave.
Asakura then remarked, "It's kind of cute, don't you think?"
"What is?" I asked.
She answered, "She hates the guy, but she's still got a little thing for him."
"Sheesh," I said. I then asked, "Can't you sympathize with anyone?"
"Not really," she answered.
"You've never been in love?" I asked.
"With no one but you," she smoothly replied.
I sneered and said, "Yeah, right."
"Okay," she said, "that was a lie, but I have had strange urges."
"Good god..." I muttered
"You know," she added, "your abilities are wasted on that light-weight, Suzumiya."
"Light-weight?" I asked.
"It's crazy," she said. "Why are you wasting your time with her?"
"There are lots of other guys you could be telling all this."
"Oh, I know."
Now that I thought about it, Haruhi was still alarmingly thin for being a chef. You would think being around food all day would make you get fat in a hurry, but not Haruhi. Of course, I'm pretty sure this isn't what Asakura meant, but I'm trying to paint a literary picture more suitable for her current audience.
Asakura then added, "There is something to be said for lots of random, anonymous encounters. The thing is, it really bothers me."
"It does?" I asked, a little too stunned to say what I was really thinking.
She admitted, "This whole conversation feels really wrong to me."
"You're telling me?" I asked.
She explained, "The funny thing is that Nagato warned me. She said to not take anything from Suzumiya in this world or that I'd regret it."
"And yet," I recalled, "you still invited me into your apartment countless times."
"It wasn't countless," she retorted. "Only nine times."
"Seemed closer to ninety," I said.
She added, "And that was long before Suzumiya had her claws in you."
"I met her before I met you," I said.
"That's true," she said, "but I've had my eyes on you."
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know," she answered. "It's really weird."
I think I knew. Asakura has the same problem as Haruhi: she views men as objects. Only, in Haruhi's case, it also applies to women. The thing about Haruhi is that it takes some weird combination of vanity, insanity, and bad luck to trigger her interest in a man. I guess I happen to have that combination. Asakura's only criteria for interest was whether they were breathing. I think she was also drawn to innocence and naivete, but that's just surmising on my part.
Unlike Haruhi, however, Asakura was starting to undergo some kind of transformation. She was possibly starting to view men as beings not unlike herself. She was beginning to show the first glimmerings of sympathy, and that made me wonder about Nagato's transformation. To go from a pretentious, jargon-babbling android to a super hero in a few mere years would be quite an accomplishment.
"Harlequin, huh?" I said. "I'm looking forward to that."
"You have a long wait," Asakura informed me. "It's going to be at least another ten years."
"Sheesh," I complained.
"You sure you don't want to come over?" she asked.
"I'm sure," I answered.
"I just love playing with fire," she added.
"You ever just go straight and be mature?" I asked.
"I did, once," she replied.
"Oh?" I asked.
She said, "That was in that world where you didn't resist my charms."
"Seriously?" I said.
"That didn't last long, though," she said, oddly frowning for a moment. "Nagato just had to ruin it."
"So, you became a paragon of virtue?" I asked.
"I became everyone's favorite guru," she answered. "That was even better than sex."
"I can't imagine it," I admitted.
"Oh, crap," she said in the nicest possible way. "Now, I'm depressed again. See what you did?"
"Me?" I asked.
- x -
Tuesday, December 18, 2007.
I know I'm probably not the most upbeat person in the world, but I seriously doubt I had anything to do with Asakura's depression. In fact, over the course of the first half of my second year in college, Asakura began insinuating her ideas about what my career should be like into my mind. The amusing thing about it now is that it always seemed like my own ideas, and I was stubbornly proud of myself for having had those ideas. Now, it just seems like a huge mistake.
I was finding myself approaching a career in education, and I didn't see the harm in it. I told myself I was doing the work of the gods, and even patted myself on the back for having the rare spark that could light a student's imagination with inspiration to learn. I noticed Asakura being her usual self with various people and thought nothing of that. Only later did I make a connection between that and this notion I have now that I was really just a pawn in her games.
Before I continue this string of cryptic remarks, I should point out that I viewed Asakura's tendency to flattery as self-destructive (which it was), and I generally viewed her odd dilemmas with pity and a certain degree of disgust (which I regret just a little).
In any case, living with Haruhi made me appreciate just how self-destructive a person could be without actually exploding before my eyes. I could tolerate it since it was behavior she mainly aimed at herself, though I did sense in myself some collateral damage to my pride, my zeal for living, and my ability to appreciate the female form. Speaking of form, I noticed Haruhi was starting to put on a little weight. That was a good thing, to my mind. I had had the impression she would have blown away in a strong gust of wind.
One particular evening, we found ourselves at her apartment, each taken to imitating the other. She was lounging on the sofa while I was sitting on my feet in a chair. I hadn't noticed, but these weird little things were starting to become important to me. I asked her about some of that, and it led into a discussion of a performance she was planning to give at a local show. It was for some kind of convention. I forget the details. I was just listening to some of her act, and starting to figure out what it was.
"Food jokes?" I asked.
"Well, what did you expect?" she said. "I work in a kitchen. That's what we talk about, half the time."
"You really think it'll go over well?" I asked.
She casually remarked, "Can't be any worse than the so-called comedy you watch on TV. Look at how often these talk show hosts tell lame puns, make ethnic slurs, rehash old material..."
"Well," I conceded, "I guess as long as you're having fun with it."
She added, "I like to think of my material as educationally ironic."
"So," I quipped, "you enlighten people in spite of what you teach them."
"Hey, that's good," she softly noted. "I need to remember that line."
"Nagato threw a fit at me today," I informed her.
"What was that about?" she asked.
"Something about the integrity of the temporal structure or whatever."
"The integrity of the space-time continuum?"
"That's it."
"You do have a tendency to create synchronization problems."
Every now and then, Haruhi likes to make these odd observations that come from out of nowhere.
"How do you figure?" I asked.
"For example," she answered, "when you told me about Mikuru."
"Hmm..." I said, trying to imagine what life would have been like had I not done that.
She added, "I've been thinking about this TPDD you mentioned."
"I mentioned that?" I asked, a little surprised at myself for being so forthcoming.
"Yeah," she answered.
"Sheesh," I complained. "Me and my big mouth."
She then said, "The cool thing about it is that it kind of makes sense. I mean, if you take matter and reverse its temporal trajectory, it basically becomes like antimatter. Outside of an absolute vacuum, you'd have a huge explosion."
"I don't think that's quite right..." I said, not liking that wording.
She continued, "So, it really does need to convey you into a negative or inverse dimension. Otherwise, your body would be destroyed in the transition. The thing that's bugging me is how you translate yourself into that dimension. I mean, wouldn't your body destroy itself at the boundary of that translation?"
"You're really asking the wrong guy," I answered. "I just traveled through time. I don't have a clue how it works."
"You're probably right," she admitted. "I'm just guessing, myself. It would be kind of cool to figure it out, though."
"I'll bet Nagato knows," I said. "She seems like the type who figures stuff out and then keeps it to herself."
"She certainly does," Haruhi agreed.
Haruhi certainly sounded like she believed me, though I still sensed that she didn't completely buy into it. There were still doubts lingering behind all that. I could also sense some odd tension when she mentioned Nagato. Somehow, we can never have a serious discussion about her. There's just something weird about it that never fits any particular situation we encounter.
"That reminds me," I said. "I have a big test to study for. I should really get started on that."
"Don't you have some holiday time?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied, "but I really should get on this stuff. No sense putting it off."
She then asked, "You know how I'm spending my holiday, right?"
"I..." I said, thinking about her work at the kitchen. "Oh, I see."
She added, "I'm going to need to charge my batteries, so to speak."
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay."
Haruhi always spent her holidays stressed out to her limits, and she expected her home to not only be calm and welcoming, but to reflect a proper attitude and respect for the season itself. She also expected me to be as accommodating as humanly possible no matter what other dire circumstances loomed in the meantime.
"You're really going to do that material?" I asked, a little worried that she would find a poor reception. Food jokes are so nineties, I thought.
"Why not?" she asked. "Weren't you the one who told me to be a comedian?"
"I did?"
"Trust me."
I don't recall ever telling her to become a comedian, though I probably did mention it as a possibility.
- x -
Thursday, November 27, 2008.
By the middle of my third year, things were really shaping up for Haruhi's showbiz career, though her odd good fortune seemed to me like leaping in through the back door. It always seemed to me as though life were a game that she had figured out some strange way to cheat at, and it bothered me a little. It seemed as though Nagato had also figured this out, though she had characteristically figured it out long before I had even begun noticing.
In one of Haruhi's earlier performances, the cousin of a studio talent scout had been a witness. He'd been impulsively wandering the area, not really sure what he was looking for. But then he stumbled into her performance, and he decided to bootleg it. That became a kind of early demo tape, and that foot in the door eventually led her to performing in front of actual studio hacks (I use the word "hack" affectionately, by the way), who eventually remembered Haruhi's performance when the subject of food-related comedy came up.
Thus it was that Haruhi was then invited to make an honest-to-goodness demo tape on a real TV show. It was just a late night talk show, but that's still way better than a lot of comedians can boast.
I went to the studio that afternoon, accompanied by Nagato. We found our way to an office with the help of some busy assistants, and we watched a TV for a while as the show's host was finishing off one of his routines. It was still early, so I thought I might get caught up, first.
I said, "I heard you got back together with Koizumi. How did that work out?"
"I don't know," she answered.
"You don't know?" I asked, thinking how odd that sounded.
It was subtle, but she looked annoyed. Nagato has difficulty expressing emotions, to put it mildly.
"Is he being a jerk again?" I asked.
"He's a pompous ass," she answered.
"Sorry," I said.
"It's okay," she assured me.
"I feel like it's my fault," I explained. "I have been nudging things along a little."
"I try not to think about it," she added.
At that point, Haruhi came on and began doing her act. It made me oddly more aware of the room itself. Nagato and I were sitting in a couple chairs at a table. It was similar to the club room back in high school, but the setting was far less distracting.
I got the impression that writers for the show used this room for their meetings, then they would probably go out to a bar and get drunk while the show actually began shooting. The show itself would come on much later, of course. By then, most of the people involved in its production would be asleep.
"You like this material?" I asked.
"Yes," Nagato replied.
I admitted, "I wasn't sure what to make of it, but it sounds a lot better in performance."
Nagato then lit a cigarette, while I pondered on this odd phenomenon.
"It's just too bad she only got a five minute slot," I remarked.
"What's your major?" she asked.
"Cosmetology," I answered.
Nagato then looked at me like she was almost glaring. As usual, I can't quite tell.
"Sorry," I said. "That was a bad joke. I'm majoring in psychology."
"Okay," she said.
It was a real mystery why Nagato felt compelled to avoid college, never getting too terribly far from Haruhi. I had the impression Nagato was stalking her, though I knew she had every reason not to.
I remarked, "I would have thought for sure you'd have earned a doctorate."
She replied in her usual monotone, "This is the kind of world I had always imagined would be the final one."
"It is?" I asked.
She smoothly answered, "There is a strong sense of balance in it, and everything right now is entering a stage where preparation can begin. It is like a long, cold night before a winter's storm."
"So," I realized, "it's not actually the last one?"
"No," she answered.
"What's stopping this from being the last one?" I asked.
She replied, "My work remains unfinished."
"Okay..." I said, once again wondering what that meant.
"For me," she explained, "this is a deep breath. It's superfluous, yet inevasible."
For a minute or so, I wasn't sure how to respond to that.
I then asked, "When exactly will your work be finished?"
"If you ever find out," she said, "please tell me."
She then stood up and started putting out her cigarette.
"It might help if I knew what your work was," I complained.
Haruhi then burst into the room, saying, "Hey Kyon!" She looked around and added, "Oh, hey Yuki!"
"Hey," I said. "Nice performance."
"Thanks," she said, sitting next to me at the table. "I think I told some funny jokes, too."
"You didn't upstage the host too much, did you?" I asked.
I realized from the creepy smile on her face that that had been exactly what she was aiming for.
I added, "Not that that would be difficult, or anything."
"You know," she said, "yesterday I would have been too nervous for a performance like that. Today, I kind of feel like I could have done much better. Weird, don't you think?"
"Not surprising, really," I remarked. "You were just more ready to respond to the audience in a particular way."
"You did set me up, didn't you?" she asked.
"At your request," I answered. Haruhi wouldn't have had it otherwise.
The strange thing was that she had prepared at the last possible moment. That was rather unusual for her, but it turned out to be a good thing. I don't think Haruhi had fully realized before I helped her out that she only had five minutes, and I think my preparations had simply helped her compress her material well enough to suit an audience that was feeling a little bored by annoyingly repetitive material from the host and his unimaginative interviews with has-been celebrities.
She then said, "I knew there was a reason I let you hang around with me."
"I'm just hanging around for the free food," I answered.
"Nice one," she muttered. "Haven't heard that a million times already."