1. Meet the Neighbours

The brown-haired teenager stared out of the classroom window, pensively tapping his forehead with his index finger as the teacher droned away in the background. The subject was history, or perhaps geography – the elderly woman's spiel was so vague and uninformative that she might as well have been a figment of his imagination for all the educational benefit she was providing. Odds were that she was a figment of someone's, anyway.

Several days had passed since his encounter with the emissary from another dimension, and Kyon was still wondering if he had indeed made the right decision in granting them passage. The thing was, he hadn't been entirely honest when he had said that they had no way of stopping said emissary's masters. He did indeed have several options for doing just that, but was rather reluctant to use any of them given that (a) he wasn't in the habit of starting interstellar wars with people he'd only just met, and (b) several of those options could quite likely result in the destruction of the universe. Again. Weighty concerns for a high-school student, but after a while in the SOS Brigade, you got used to them.

Nagato's contributions to the situation had been particularly disheartening – the Integrated Data Entity had been tracking the movement of heavily-armed warships quite in excess of what was likely required for the 'exploration' the emissary had mentioned, and when he had asked her for some sort of explanation as to what exactly their visitors were after their initial meeting with them, she had handed him an H.P. Lovecraft anthology and said, in her usual deadpan monotone, "Like that – but worse."

He was pretty sure she wasn't talking about the purple prose and howling racism, either.

As if on cue, North High School's own resident cosmic horror stuck her head over his shoulder and gave him a bright, cheerful smile. "Hey, Kyon! What're you drawing? Can I see?"

Kyon looked down and realised, with a ghastly sense of impending dread, that he had been idly sketching out the name the emissary had given him. He'd tried to forget it – the last thing he wanted to do was summon those... things, whatever they were, but it had kept creeping back like that oddly squidgy burger that you'd downed a bit too fast, fervently hoping that the green bits were some sort of herb. Desperately, he tried to tug the sheet of paper out of sight, but Haruhi was far too fast.

"Aww, c'mon. Why so secretive? It's just some writing, for crying out loud. Wait – what is that? Zinchy... Zeen-chee... Tzintchi..."

"Oh, it's just the username of a guy on a forum I visit," Kyon replied airily. "Potato farming – my family's looking to start a vegetable garden, you see. So, you hear about that newspaper contest?"

"Newspaper contest?" Haruhi's eyes lit up. Appealing to her competitive streak was always a safe bet.

"Umm... yes." Kyon scrambled for ideas. Damn it, Koizumi, where are you? This is supposed to be your job. "They wanted people to send in pictures of interesting and unusual things happening in their neighbourhood. Winners would get a cash prize and their photos printed in the paper. I thought you'd heard about it, to be honest."

"What? Of course I didn't! It's your duty as a loyal member of the SOS Brigade to keep me informed of these things! Honestly, why do I have to deal with such incompetent underlings? Come on, Kyon – we're going to show the world our photographic expertise!"

That was the nice thing about dealing with Haruhi, Kyon thought as he was dragged out of the room by his elbow, the teacher's ineffectual protests ringing in his ears. Even if the distraction you came up with was entirely fabricated, you could be fairly sure it would exist by the time you got to it. Normally the idea of a Suzumiya-coordinated photo op would fill him with quiet dread, but it was infinitely better than tentacular horribleness creeping out from the walls or whatever.

I mean, that can't possibly have counted. She didn't even pronounce it properly the first couple of times. I've got nothing to worry about. Right?

That evening, once he had finally staggered back home, he got his answer.


The invite was majestic in its simplicity – a gold-embossed card bearing the logo of one of the most punitively expensive hotels in town and adorned with a few brief lines of extravagantly-flowing script.

Main Lounge

5:30 p.m.

Your fellow potato enthusiast, Tzintchi

Kyon couldn't resist having another glance at it as he approached the hotel's main entrance. It wasn't every day that he got to handle something quite so forebodingly expensive, after all.

A quick chat with Nagato had provided him with some typically efficient (if curt) directions, and once school had finished he had made a quick stop by the bathrooms to wash his face and comb his hair, before setting out to meet his enigmatic hosts.

The lobby was as spectacular as he had expected – a carefully-designed riot of rare woods, intricate carpeting, and tastefully-applied gilt. He stood around in it for a moment, feeling deeply awkward, before one of the immaculately-dressed porters bustled up to him.

"Ah, hello, Master Kyon. Your friend Master Shinji said to expect you. Please follow me."

Shinji? Ah, right, Tzintchi. Imaginative alias, there.

Nodding his thanks in what he hoped was an appropriately dignified manner, Kyon did so. He briefly wondered how the man had recognised him on sight, but dismissed it as a simple demonstration of the service the hotel's patrons paid for. After all, it wasn't as if they likely had that many North High School students wandering through their doors.

The porter stopped at the door to the lounge, held it open, and gestured for him to go through. The room beyond was a warm, low-ceilinged place whose aura of homeliness would have been rather more convincing if its array of armchairs, sofas, and coffee tables had not been entirely uninhabited apart from the four beings slouching casually in the centre.

There was something... off about them, Kyon saw as he walked towards them. They were human, yet not, standing out against the background of the room like bad special effects. One wore the appearance of an attractive, dark-haired woman in her late twenties, squeezed into a deep purple dress that was practically sin incarnate. Another was a quiet, reserved-looking girl who looked like Nagato's more personable older sister. The third was another teenage girl, this time an inhumanly confident-looking redhead in a bright scarlet gown that subtly warred with that of the older woman for the title of 'Most Likely To Make Kyon Swallow His Own Tongue'. The last was the only male of the group, a short, thoughtful-looking young man in a deep blue dinner jacket who looked vaguely lawyerly to Kyon's inexperienced eye, and who looked up and gave him a friendly wave as he approached.

"Afternoon, Kyon. How's it going?"

"You'd be Tzintchi, right?"

"Please, call me Shinji. Or Mr. Ikari, if you want to be formal. It used to be my name, after all, when I was human."

"Ah? So how did you get the extra consonants?" Mocking the eldritch abomination was, of course, the smart thing to do.

"By being able to do things like this."

The besuited apparition made a complicated hand gesture, and a not-unpleasant but otherwise indescribable sensation washed across Kyon's body. He looked down, and saw that his school uniform had been replaced by immaculately-tailored black tie garb. A couple of seconds passed, and then his neatly-folded uniform appeared in front of his eyes with a loud pop, before falling into his outstretched arms.

Tzintchi grinned. "Like it? It's yours now. Borrowed the design from a little place in London I visited once back home. Can't have the staff giving you the stink-eye because you're violating their dress-code, can we?"

Kyon tried desperately to regain control of the situation. "Um... thanks. And your friends are...?"

"Oh, sorry, we should have said, shouldn't we? Ladies?"

"Misato Katsuragi. Pleased to meet you," said the dark-haired woman in a voice that made the wonderful new suit suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Rei Ayanami," stated the blue-haired girl flatly, with an odd bubbling undertone that made him wonder about her health.

"Asuka Langley Soryuu," the redhead announced with unassailable smugness. "So, Shinji, this is the guy? Doesn't look like much."

Temper, Kyon... He forced an awkward smile. "Nice to meet you, everyone. So, may I ask why you wanted to pay me a visit?"

The redhead, Asuka, raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? It was you who summoned us."

Kyon sighed and pinched his nose. "Right. Which is why you used a summoning-word that wormed into the recipient's head and didn't even need to be pronounced properly. And why you all turned up at once rather than just Mr. Ikari. And why the invite you sent me referred to something that happened at about the same time as the summoning, implying prior observation. I'm not an idiot, you know."

Ikari chuckled genially. "All right, you caught us. Mostly, we just wanted to meet the neighbours, see if you had any questions that needed asking. You know, being good interdimensional citizens."

And if that's the truth, then I'm a teacup. "I... see. Actually, I did have one question. You've been sending through a lot of military vessels lately. Why is that?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, really," Shinji replied. "We want to safeguard our own interests. Do you know how many people are still alive on our world, excluding daemons?"

"Wait – daemons?"

"It's a bit snappier than 'sentient psychic constructs', don't you think? Anyway, our current population is two billion – and yes, we do indeed come from a parallel Earth. In the past eighteen years, we have managed to rise from a low point of nine hundred and fifty million through careful social management after a group of scared, greedy old men nearly ended up killing everyone. The only way we were able to prevent it was by hijacking the process to fuel our own apotheosis."

"And fifteen years before that," Misato interjected, "half the human race – three billion people – died in a disaster that shattered the world. Same people responsible."

"Indeed so. You will understand, therefore, Kyon, that we have no intention of allowing another catastrophe of that magnitude to befall us. Our policy is to act on our own terms – firmly, decisively, and with overwhelming force. We understand that you are likewise. That business with the Integrated Data Entity a while ago impressed us greatly."

All four politely applauded him with eerie unison.

"That's one of the reasons we want to help you," Misato explained. "So far, you've been doing pretty well when it comes to keeping Haruhi occupied, but how long can you keep it up? How long can you hold the fate of the universe in your hands?"

Kyon said nothing.

"Let me tell you a little story. A long time ago, in a place far from here, there was a race called the Eldar. They ruled their galaxy without question. Their fleets were invincible, their civilisation unassailable, and their scientific achievements unmatched. Every planet was a paradise, every citizen a model of aesthetic and intellectual perfection. Of course, it couldn't last. It wasn't political strife or an external threat that did them in, though. They were beyond that. It was boredom. The myriad wonders of thousands of star systems were at their very fingertips, and it still wasn't enough. They experimented with ancient rites and forbidden pleasures. Blood flowed in the streets, and the empire slowly tore itself apart. Some saw their doom approaching and escaped, but most remained, only realising their mistake as their race died in darkness and fire, its final agonised, ecstatic screams giving birth to a new and terrible god."

She rose from her chair and sashayed towards him.

"Do you understand me? You can't do this forever. People change. It's how they are. Will Haruhi always be satisfied with her cosy little prison of a high school? Will you? Sooner or later, she will demand something you are unable or unwilling to give her. It needn't even be something particularly big. She once nearly destroyed the world over a baseball game without noticing, remember? It will happen, though, and everything – your friends, your family, your home – will be gone."

She was standing in front of him now. Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper, and he could faintly detect the scent of unnamed, exotic spices. He clutched his uniform in front of him like a protective blanket.

"We can help you, Kyon. We have power at our disposal, and the willingness to use it. Having your universe destroyed won't benefit us either, after all. We can make your life easier; buy you a few more years of existence..."

She smiled seductively, and plucked a hair from his head.

"And we can teach you how to fuck three girls up the ass at the same time and blow their minds."

Kyon's expression froze. "This conversation is over."

He turned and walked out of the room. As the door closed behind him, he heard Shinji's voce.

"Just remember – if you ever change your mind, give us a call. We'll be waiting."


Once he left, the four young gods turned to each other.

"Did you get it?" Tzintchi asked.

Mislaato smiled and showed them the short brown hair in her hand. "Could you ever doubt me?"

Asukhon peered at it dubiously. "You think this'll be enough? I mean, given that he's... you know."

Their leader grinned and stretched his arms out behind his head, not noticing as they passed through the chair he was supposed to be seated on.

"With Chaos, all things are possible," he said confidently. "Think of it as a Plan B."


Author's Notes: So why, you ask, did they want his hair? What happened to the Evangelion cast? Not to put too fine a point on it, what the hell is going on? I can only reply: Patience, my friends. All shall be revealed in time. Honest.