I agreed wholeheartedly. If Haruhi would just join the track-and-field club, she’d probably be able to qualify for nationals in short-, medium-, and long-distance running. And the same was true for any other sport. She absolutely hated to lose, after all. I never met anyone else so obsessed with being the winner, or being the best.
I looked over to the other court, where there was still a match in progress. “I’m sure she’d tell you she’s got more important things to do than waste her youth on sports.” I was hoping that maybe Asahina or Nagato would be playing, but I didn’t see either of them anywhere in the gym.
“Like the SOS Brigade, eh?” said Taniguchi, chuckling. “Heh, that’s just like her. Hard to imagine her doing anything like a normal student. She’s been that way since middle school. These days her favorite thing to do is get up to incomprehensible games with you, Kyon.”
I wasn’t in the mood to refute him.
There wasn’t much time left in the school year. The school day had been shortened for the tournament, which automatically lessened the amount of time spent in the classroom. We’d move into the spring break, and just about when the cherry blossoms started to bloom, we’d become second-year students. Then there’d be the reshuffling of classes that worried many a student, which would decide what joys and sorrows the following year would contain. I’d grown fond of these two jerks, and it would’ve been nice to have them in my classroom the next year, if nothing else.
As I zoned out, Kunikida sat up, which grabbed my attention.
“Looks like the next match is starting.”
I looked and saw the girls of Class 1-5 scattering onto the court, with Haruhi, their captain, at the center.
I was ready for spring to arrive at any time, but given the school’s position between mountains, the air was still pretty cold. There was an emotional factor that probably added to the feeling of cold—that being the fact that I’d gotten my test results back a few days previous.
The scores weren’t too bad, at least by my standards, but they weren’t enough to satisfy my mom’s hopes, and she’d sent away for pamphlets from cram schools and tutoring centers, leaving them where I’d find them—it was so bad that my stomach hurt. She just wanted me to get into a public university somewhere, and on paper that was my ambition too. Aim high and all that. And plus… how do I put it? There was Haruhi to consider.
The reason my final-exam marks weren’t doing their best impression of low-altitude flying was because Haruhi had become a temporary in-house tutor, helping me do last-minute cramming in the clubroom. A few days before the exams started, she’d scattered textbooks and notes all over the table and said this:
“I won’t let you take makeup exams or extra lessons. I will not allow you to make mistakes that come between you and your SOS Brigade duties!”
When it came to “SOS Brigade duties,” I didn’t complain. Before I could even ask what the hourly wage for brigade duties was, my wallet was already empty—not that it mattered.
In any case, even I had to admit that sitting across from Koizumi and drinking Asahina’s tea in the clubroom beat getting stared at by a teacher while trying to solve new questions or listening to boring lectures, so I did not resist when Haruhi donned an armband that said “Professor” and delivered her teachings.
Professor Haruhi’s method of test taking was extremely simple—she relied on pure speculation to guess which questions would be on the test and studied those heavily. I knew her intuition to be keen indeed, so I was only too happy to go along with her. If I’d asked Nagato, she probably could’ve just recited every question and an example answer to go along with it, whereas Koizumi could’ve employed some intrigue to steal the tests out of the staff room, but I resorted to neither supernatural powers nor covert operations and decided to simply apply myself. To be honest, watching Haruhi the house tutor happily brandish her pointer, even going so far as to wear fake glasses, I had no particular desire to use any other method, since it wouldn’t actually be in my best interests.
There was no question that Haruhi wanted to sit behind me in class again next year. There was no question that she’d occasionally poke me in the back with her mechanical pencil, regardless of whether class was happening or not, saying, “Hey, Kyon, I’ve been thinking—” before excitedly launching into an explanation of whatever it was I’d come to wish she hadn’t been thinking about. And to do that, she’d have to be in the same class as me, which meant we’d have to be aiming for roughly the same level of college, which naturally led to her having an interest in my grades. I mean, I was the SOS Brigade’s exclusive errand boy. It was the same way an army made up of only officers would be useless. It was Haruhi’s job to give orders, and it was my job to carry things around.
That had been the way things were last year, and I had no doubt that they would continue into next year. That was certainly what Haruhi wanted, and she’d do anything to make her desires reality. We could even wind up repeating this last year over and over into infinity.
Of course, I didn’t think anything like the August incident would happen again. Haruhi wouldn’t reset the year. I was fairly sure of that.
Why was I so sure? Because I knew that the year that followed the creation of the SOS Brigade had been a lot of fun for Haruhi. Haruhi would never unmake those memories. I was positive.
I could look at the way she was right now and know.
I once again looked at the scene below me.
Haruhi was leading her volleyball team to victory.
She attacked ruthlessly, over and over. I had no interest in the way her shirt fluttered up to reveal her belly button when she jumped. What had my attention was her expression.
Last March, when I’d first met her, Haruhi was completely isolated from the rest of the class. Or should I say, she’d made no effort to fit in, to find a place for herself. Sitting in that chair behind me, she never smiled and was totally closed off, as though she’d taken it upon herself to singlehandedly dampen the mood of the class. Even after that, once she’d started talking to me at least, she was still estranged from the other girls—but not anymore. While she didn’t have a particular group she was good friends with, her days of always pushing everyone away were behind her.
It seemed like the creation of the SOS Brigade had pushed her in a good direction. At the same time, she’d always had that ability within herself. It had been during middle school that Haruhi had started having difficulties. I bet that before that she’d had the force of a radar-guided missile and shone with the brilliance of a fiery afterburner—so rather than her having “gotten better,” it was more accurate to say that she’d gotten her old self back.
I hadn’t known her before the first year of middle school. And even then, I’d only barely glanced at her. I seem to remember wanting to ask someone who’d gone to the same elementary school as her what she’d been like, but I don’t think I wound up doing it.
There on the volleyball court, Haruhi and her classmates were enjoying the tournament. But she seemed to be holding back a little. Apparently her full-on hundred-watt brigade chief power was reserved for when she was dreaming up punishment games. Which was too bad. It was a waste not to let it shine here too.
Haruhi nailed another spike, then looked almost embarrassed as she punched her teammates’ extended fists.
The tournament came to an end, thus concluding the day’s school activities.
Anyone with clubs to attend scattered to do so, while people not in clubs went home. Since the members of the SOS Brigade were assembling in the literature club room, I made my way toward my familiar folding chair with Haruhi, who strode up the stairs in high spirits.
It was obvious that her good mood was due to her victory in the volleyball tournament. It wasn’t as though they gained anything by coming out on top, but as I looked at Haruhi walking beside me, I could tell she was extremely pleased. She’d also triumphed against the student council president’s attempt to close down the literature club, and I couldn’t think of anything else that could drive her to melancholy—except, I suppose, the impending advancement to our second year of high school.
According to Koizumi, more or less anything Haruhi wished for would come to pass, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Nagato, Koizumi, and I wound up all in the same class along with Haruhi. Koizumi was in a special class, but I was sure Haruhi’s Haruhi-brand power could do something about that. Compared to making energy beams shoot out of Asahina’s eyes, it would be trivial. The problem was that Haruhi didn’t know she had such power, so it was also possible we’d wind up scattered among classes.
She still didn’t know—neither about Nagato’s data-manipulation ability, nor about the kinds of things Koizumi’s Agency could accomplish.
So I was optimistic. I’ll be completely honest—next year, I hoped I got to sit in front of Haruhi again. If we got scattered, I’d probably feel the way I felt just before Christmas, when I’d discovered her disappearance. I’d be constantly wondering what she was getting up to.
On the other hand, I wondered if that might not be such a bad thing after all. Was that a self-contradiction? But again, just as Koizumi said, if that meant Haruhi’s powers were calming down, that would be good.
But wait—the truth is, I would feel a bit lonely.
“What’s your problem?” I must’ve been making a pretty introspective face. Haruhi peered down at me from the top of the stairs. “You’re acting weird. First you were smiling, and now you’re all serious. Do you have some kind of facial disorder? Or are you still dwelling on getting your butt kicked at soccer? Honestly, the boys of Class Five are totally useless.”
That was because the field positions for the tournament had been decided by lottery, I said. All the athletic guys wound up on team A. The defender line was Taniguchi, Kunikida, and me. I’ll admit it was pretty nice to be able to tackle the hell out of the Class 9 forwards, but unfortunately I couldn’t keep up with their captain, Koizumi, who kept kicking these killer passes. But even Class 9 lost to Class 6 in the next round, which was an appropriately half-assed result for Koizumi. I almost wondered if he did it on purpose, and I said as much.
“What’re you talking about?” Haruhi laughed. “But yeah, I can see Koizumi doing something like that. I mean, it is Class Nine. When guys like you and Taniguchi decide you hate the smart kids and decide to charge them, you’re gonna get hurt and look stupid. I’ll admit there are a few jerks in the class, but I like most of the Class Nine students just fine.”
She’d liked them well enough to transport all of them to a different school with her. Oh, wait, no—that had been Nagato’s doing.
As I was untangling the threads of my memory, we arrived at the clubroom. Haruhi seemed to have forgotten to make even the slightest gesture toward politeness, and she slammed the door open without so much as knocking. “Hey, Mikuru! How’d the tournament go? And is there any cold tea? I got really thirsty playing all that volleyball. I bet I’m dehydrated.”
She strode right into the room and flopped into the brigade chief’s seat.
The rest of the brigade members had already assembled, and I was greeted by the familiar sight of Nagato and Koizumi in their usual places, with Asahina in that maid outfit that suited her so well—she could’ve been the subject of a Rembrandt or a Rubens.
“I don’t have anything cold, I’m sorry,” said Asahina, apologizing for the mistake. “Ah, shall I chill it for you? In the refrigerator?”
That’s right, this room had a fridge. It was a tiny one without a freezer box, but we’d used it to cool soft drinks back when we’d made stew. Since my main drink in here was Asahina’s hot tea, I had even less use for the refrigerator than I did for the portable gas burner.
“Nah, it’s okay,” said Haruhi generously. “That’d take too much time, and tea’s better when it’s just been brewed anyway.”
Cups of tea were quickly brought to Haruhi and me. Asahina’s facility with tea had leveled up again. Just as I was debating whether to compliment her on the improvement in one of her hospitality skills, Asahina spoke very happily.
“Cold tea… hmm, yes, I suppose I could get a refrigerator with a water cooler next time.”
What was she talking about? Sometimes I wondered whether she’d brought back knowledge from the future on any subject other than tea making, although I would never say so out loud. I didn’t want her flailing around too much. While she looked like nothing other than an adorable maid, a time traveler was a time traveler, and if Asahina got too hasty, she could easily start going on about the nature of time, and unlike Koizumi, I got a headache when I tried to think about that stuff. I wanted a break from incomprehensible diagrams.
Speaking of Koizumi, he was sitting in his own chair, playing single-player Othello.
“Now that really takes me back,” I said, looking at Koizumi’s activity. Come to think of it, this was the first board game that had been brought into the clubroom. And I’d brought it.
“Indeed. It’ll soon be a year since we all met. I was thinking it would be nice to bring things back around to the beginning.”
He’d been fairly agreeable during the soccer match, but sitting here in the clubroom, Koizumi seemed even happier, and before I could reply, he’d reset the Othello board to its original state.
Back to the beginning, eh?
I hadn’t lived so long I could really look back on the past, but they were words I could see myself saying.
As I picked up one of the magnetized Othello pieces, I looked sideways. Othello. One year ago. Those words had a very particular association in my mind, and the object of that association was sitting at a corner of the table, quietly absorbed in a book on foreign literature.
“…”
Yuki Nagato silently read her book. The first time I saw this alien-humanoid interface show something like a genuine emotion was when Asahina and I were playing Othello in this very room. The memory is very clear.
When I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t seriously played a game like this with Nagato. Unless she lost on purpose, I couldn’t imagine I’d have a chance at winning. Unlike playing against Koizumi, when I usually won. Unless that was on purpose too. Could be.