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Six Characters in Search of Suzumiya Haruhi – Act One

5

I barely slept that night. The phantom figure of Koizumi Itsuki haunted my thoughts, sometimes appearing in a wispy aura like the gleam of a solitary candle, sometimes glimpsed for a moment between the faces of the crowd as I ran through the Haven, sometimes standing on a roof with a cloak of darkness billowing around him. And all the time I heard hoofbeats, hoofbeats, coming closer, as if the Four Hunters had turned into the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and I was the devil that they were riding down.

Long before the sun was up, I clambered out of bed and shook myself awake. I couldn't stand being alone with these thoughts any longer. I slipped into my bunny girl outfit, with the money Ryouko had given me for train tickets concealed in my bra, and set off. As soon as I was outside, I realised for the first time how cold the streets were so early in the morning, and I almost turned back to get my combat waitress costume instead. That might be a little warmer. But no. I would show Ryouko and the others. I would do this my way, dressed in my clothes, and then they wouldn't be able to say those clothes weren't cool.

I set off down the road at a brisk pace. I was glad that no-one was around to see me, and I wanted to get to the station before the city woke up. The way Tomomi had spoken about my clothes kept pricking at the back of my mind. Stupid. I shouldn't let myself be affected. But somehow, I just couldn't help it.

I came past the crossroads, ignoring the turning that led towards the Haven and Tachibana's temple. Ahead, the road led to a huge intersection, with pedestrian walkways curling in a knot above it, like a ribbon on a box of chocolates. The station was on the other side, so I went up the spiral stairs, and at once found myself in the middle of a vast crowd, flowing in every direction over the walkways. What were so many people doing, up and about at this hour? I had no idea, but I didn't know how to ask. I could only slip in amongst them and try to find a way forwards, through a thicket of flailing elbows and wayward shopping bags.

About a minute later, I fell out of the crowd and landed in front of the station entrance. Don't ask me how I managed to make it through. I'm very glad to have forgotten.

At least Ryouko was right about one thing: the station was well signposted. Indeed, it looked as if the local signmakers had just held a convention, and left everything they didn't want to take home strewn haphazardly over the walls or hanging from the ceiling like pigs at the butcher's shop, waiting for someone to come along and choose the prettiest. I just ignored them, and continued inside until I found the gate that said "Tickets".

And then I was on the train to Kita-naniwa, stranded in the middle of a crowd of strangers who might as well all have been talking another language. The noise of their gossip bubbled up all around me, but there was no comfort in it, none of the cosy feeling I got from the banter of customers back at the store. I closed my eyes, and tried to remember that the journey would not last long.

It did not. I fell out onto the platform at Kita-naniwa, gasping for air. After a few moments, I picked myself up and looked around. The crowd of my fellow passengers was already sinking away down the escalators, and behind them was revealed the landscape of an alien world.

In the distance, stretching out as far as the eye could see, was a plateau of concrete structures, of shapes so varied and senseless that one could hardly call them buildings. They seemed to have grown from the ground like a malignant fungus. The sun was just poking its head out from under the blankets, and the city was swathed in a lurid pink sheen. Here and there, metal spikes rose high into the sky, and flashes of light sparked out. But nothing in the city seemed to heed them; there was no sign of life there, no sense of humanity. And yet I knew there were people in there, somewhere. I found myself wondering whether they had been frozen, encased in slabs of concrete, turned into works of art for future generations to gaze at in horror, so that they could experience for a moment a sense of their own mortality and the futility of human endeavour. I turned away, shivering.

Down the escalators, I was at least somewhere I understood in part. I shuffled around until I found the ticket office, and got my ticket to Sakuragawa; and then I was wandering around for what felt like hours in a labyrinth of corridors and walkways, with escalators leading up and down into a series of interconnected mazes.

But I found the platform at last, and got on the train to Oohashi. There was no sign yet of any Hunters, whatever they were supposed to look like. Perhaps they dared not attack with so many people around.

Sakuragawa station was much smaller. There were only two platforms: the one I was on, filled with a crowd of commuters either on their way to Oohashi or back to Kita-naniwa; and the empty platform opposite. Apparently, no-one else wanted to go to Dokonimo. It looked so gloomy and dishevelled that I wondered whether anyone had used it for years. There were no signs, except for one saying "Welcome to Sakura", the "-gawa" being invisible under layers of grime. The walls were black with dust and mildew.

I sat uncomfortably on the platform's only bench, careful not to shift my weight at all in case the cracked timbers should finally splinter apart. As I sat, I watched the people on the other platform hurry back and forth; no-one seemed to notice me, even though my costume was the only splash of colour against that background.

At last the train arrived. This was a much smaller train, with wooden doors and furnishings; it looked delightfully old-fashioned. After my visions of the nightmare city, I felt an overwhelming surge of relief.

The carriage was full of boys and girls in blue school uniforms, sitting together in fours and fives, chatting away merrily, too absorbed in their own worlds to notice me. I settled down in a corner. The train set off, and almost at once, the carriage tilted as the train began to drag us upwards.

Cheers and whistles. Bodies jolting and colliding. "Hey, you're heavy!" "Hold on to that coffee!"

I closed my eyes and relaxed, bathing in the sensuous warmth of sound.

Then all was still. Unnaturally still. I opened my eyes again. The train had stopped, still tilted, and the passengers were silent with shock.

A door opened. No-one looked towards it. It closed again.

The voices started again; but they were softer, more subdued, speaking in awkward fragments as if they could not remember what they had been talking about.

A darkness hovered in the air. There was no physical object there, not even a mist; there was just a shadow, as if the light just happened to be shining everywhere except for one place. I watched it, trembling.

With ponderous slowness, the darkness turned and glided towards the nearest girl. She did not seem to have noticed it. She was telling some story to her friends – evidently a dramatic one, for she was illustrating it with wild gestures that made them hold their bentou boxes tightly and slide out of her way.

And, somehow, words formed in the air, even though there was no-one there to speak them.

"Your name. Asahina Mikuru?"

She looked up, startled, and looked around as if trying to work out who had spoken. Her arm remained outstretched, having stopped mid-sweep.

"My name is Kuga Chiaki."

The girl sitting next to her swivelled round and stared at her. "I know that! Have you gone crazy?"

And then she stopped. The darkness had left Chiaki and was hovering over her. She froze, at an angle that happened to look as if she was staring at Chiaki's breasts. Chiaki pushed her away.

"Yes... yes, I understand," said the girl.

"Hey! Anzu-chan!"

"We've got to find Asahina Mikuru," said Anzu, slowly rising to her feet. "She's the reason why we've stopped. If we find her, then things will be all right again."

"Uh, if you say so," said Chiaki. She jumped up and called out, "Hey! Anyone here called Asahina Mikuru?"

Instinctively, I started to rise, when I felt a force pushing me back, as if something very heavy were attached to my shoulders.

"Stay."

I caught a sudden glint, as if the morning light struck an eye standing over me and watching me. But there was no face there.

Chiaki and Anzu were striding down the carriage, calling out "Asahina Mikuru!" and looking around – but everyone they passed just shook their heads. Soon they would come up to me. There was nowhere to hide. And always, behind them, I caught the sense of a patch of darkness gliding along with them and driving them on.

Then a curtain shifted in the wind, and in the light that came through, I sensed that in front of me was standing a person with very dark hair, so black that the light seemed to twist itself around her, and so long that I could not see any clothes, nothing but hair.

Then I remembered – back at the meeting, the girl Kimidori had instructed to watch over me, the one who was barely visible. What had her name been – Suou, or something like that?

"Suou-san," I whispered, "what are you –"

A sound like an old door creaking in the wind. She was trying to speak, I felt, but had almost forgotten how.

And, suddenly, I knew what I had to say.

"Just... don't hurt anyone, all right?"

There came a sound like dewdrops glistening on a flower petal, or a bell ringing from the other end of the universe.

Suou was laughing.

One boy gave Chiaki a smart-aleck answer, and she turned aside to remonstrate with him. Effortlessly, the darkness glided past her and bore down on me. And, even though I could not see her, I sensed Suou standing before me, her whole figure trembling with the return of forgotten powers.

"You," she said. And now that she had relearned how to shape the air and give it voice, the sounds came more easily, though still with a tremendous slowness, as if each syllable cost enormous effort:

"You – cannot – pass."

There was a scraping, grinding sound, as if the Hunter was snarling with the dust in the air; and a glint as if the particles of dust were rubbing against each other and igniting. Anzu span round and raised a hand towards her throat, as if wondering why she could no longer breathe. Her eyes bulged.

"Suou!" I squeaked. "We've got to do something!"

Her hair rustled around her. I felt something in the air, as if I were standing in a forest with leaves brushing past me. My whole body tingled as sparks of static electricity danced across my clothes. And then sharp stings as if a prickly branch had hit me. Suou stepped forward to meet the Hunter, power gleaming around her.

The Hunter dived towards her, and a streak of light curved down as if reflecting off an invisible scythe. Suou stood motionless. I stared, trying to pierce the shroud of darkness with my eyes and see if she was hurt.

And then a soft sound like slow, laboured breathing.

"You cannot pass," Suou said again. She crackled. I felt as if something had stung me in my right side. A light glowed, crimson at first, turning through yellow to a white so bright I had to look away. Hair rustled against my face. There was a screech like a fast-moving metal blade grinding to a halt.

I forced myself to look back. The Hunter hovered in the darkness, exerting all its strength to resist Suou's power. Chiaki must have felt something; she was looking from side to side with a bemused expression. Even the boy she had been arguing with seemed to have noticed that something was odd. And, unnoticed behind her, Anzu wobbled and staggered as the Hunter drew away what was left of her air.

I sprang up. Suou was concentrating too hard on the Hunter to stop me. I had to get to Anzu, even if it meant jumping through the middle of the battle. Don't ask me why. But I couldn't leave her to die like this, such a pitiful death, without even a chance to know what was going on. I just couldn't.

I jumped. For an instant I was in one of those dreams where the world is black and white clouds all around you as you fall for ever. A force like a black hole gripped my arm and tugged it back. Then all at once I was assailed by a thousand different sensations: a bonfire crackling around me as autumn leaves bristled against my skin; water bubbling at my knees as a whirlpool carried me away from safety; impossibly thin lances striking and clinking as two expert fighters fought so fast that nothing could be seen except a blur and flashes of light.

And then I was through, and lay panting on the floor, my body still squirming as magical energy flowed through it in bursts and flashes. I couldn't lift myself. But I had to. Anzu was dying, less than a metre away from me. She was dying because she'd gotten caught up in a story she had nothing to do with. I couldn't let her die.

I lifted myself up, grabbed her, and leapt out of the way, back to where there was still air. All around, the boys and girls were phasing back into wakefulness, curious eyes turning towards us.

I looked back. Tendrils of darkness hovered in the air. Slowly, the Hunter was turning towards me again. And then Suou, as if she suddenly remembered what speed meant, leapt on the Hunter, and there was a surge of energy so strong, all feeling was blocked out, leaving only an overpowering urge to get away. My fingers searched blindly for the door. To my surprise, I touched something, and when I pushed, I felt it sliding away from me.

I looked back once more. Anzu lay slumped against a seat. Chiaki had noticed her at last, and was huddled over her, trying to shake her awake.

"Get her out and give her some air!" I called.

And Chiaki bent down, and lifted Anzu up by the arm. I took the other arm, and we hauled her through the door and jumped out of the carriage, landing softly on the grass.

There was a click and a shudder, and the train was on its way again.