The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (3 page)

What exactly was she trying to accomplish?

Naturally, the rumor that “there’s a strange girl in this year’s freshman class” spread like wildfire throughout school. It only took about a month before every single person involved with our school knew of Haruhi Suzumiya. By the beginning of May, it reached the point where some people still didn’t know the name of the principal, but everybody knew the name Haruhi Suzumiya.

As all of this was going on—well, Haruhi was the only one actually involved—we reached the month of May.

I’m more willing to believe in the chance of someone discovering a plesiosaurus in Lake Biwa than in fate. But if fate does in fact affect the lives of humans from some unknown place, I’m guessing that this was when my wheel of destiny began to turn. I’m positive that someone up there had rewritten my future without my consent.

It was the first day after the Golden Week holidays. I discovered that I had lost track of what day of the week it was as I trudged up the winding hill, dripping sweat in the scorching, abnormal May weather. What was the earth trying to do here? Did it catch yellow fever or something?

“Yo, Kyon.”

Someone behind me tapped me on the shoulder. It was Taniguchi.

He had his blazer slung nonchalantly over his shoulder, necktie half-loose, and a grin plastered on his face.

“Did you go somewhere for Golden Week?”

“I took my sister to see our grandmother.”

“That’s lame.”

“What about you?”

“Worked the whole time.”

“How is that any better?”

“Kyon, a high school student shouldn’t be babysitting his little sister on a merry little trip to visit grandparents. You’ve gotta act more like a high schooler.”

Incidentally, the nickname “Kyon” belongs to me. From what I recall, one of my aunts was the first to call me that. It was a few years back when I hadn’t seen her for a while. When she saw me, she went, “Oh, Kyon. You’ve grown so big,” which was an unwelcome twist on my name. Upon hearing that, my sister thought it was hilarious and started calling me “Kyon.” Some friends who came to my house happened to overhear her calling me that, and ever since, my nickname’s been Kyon.
Damn.

“It’s an annual family tradition for us cousins to get together during Golden Week.”

And with that indifferent response, I continued trudging up the hill. The feeling of sweat dripping from my hair was extremely unpleasant.

Taniguchi was cheerfully going on about stuff like some cute girl he met at work and how he’d been saving up money so he had plenty to spend for a date. This could be considered some of the most boring information ever told, along with telling people about your dreams, or bragging about your pet.

As I listened to Taniguchi describe three different date scenarios with his nonexistent companion, we finally made it to the school front gate.

When I entered the classroom, I found that Haruhi Suzumiya was already in the seat behind mine, coolly looking out the window. Today, her hair was arranged in two buns sticking out like doorknobs, which made me think,
Ah, two spots would make today Wednesday,
and with that affirmation, I took my seat. That was when I probably became possessed by some demon. I can think of no other explanation. The next thing I knew, I was talking to Haruhi Suzumiya.

“Do you change your hair every day for the aliens?”

Haruhi turned her head towards me in a robotic motion and stared at me with her perpetually serious face. Kinda scary.

“When did you notice?” she asked in a tone like she was talking to a rock on the side of the road.

Come to think of it, when did I notice?

“Hmm… just recently.”

“I see.”

Haruhi rested her chin on her hand, looking like she was already sick of this.

“I think that each day of the week gives off a different image.”

This would be the first time we actually reached a conversation.

“Just look at the Chinese characters used for the names of the days of the week. Color-wise, Monday (Moon) would be yellow. Tuesday (Fire) is red. Wednesday (Water) is blue. Thursday (Wood) is green. Friday (Gold) would be gold. Saturday (Earth) would be light brown. Sunday (Sun) would be white.”

I guess I can see where she’s coming from.

“So with numbers, Monday would be zero and Sunday would be six?”

“Yes.”

“Monday feels more like one to me.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“Oh, really?”

Haruhi continued to stare as though she found something wrong with my muttering face. This lasted long enough for me to start feeling quite uneasy.

She asked, “Have I met you before? A long time ago?”

“Nope,” I replied. And with homeroom teacher Okabe’s entrance, the conversation came to an end.

That was the beginning. Nothing particularly significant, but it was indeed the catalyst.

Besides, Haruhi was only in the classroom during class so the only time I could talk to her was right before homeroom. And I can’t deny the fact that being seated right in front of her provided the perfect position for casually striking up a conversation with her.

In any case, a serious response from Haruhi was a surprise. “Shut up!” “Moron!” “Be quiet!” “Who cares about that?!” were the replies I was expecting. The fact that I still talked to her anyway probably means there’s something wrong with me.

Which is why when Haruhi showed up the next day without her hair tied off in three spots according to pattern, but with her long, beautiful black hair cut instead, I was rather disturbed. Anyway, wasn’t cutting it the day after I pointed it out a bit hasty? What gives?

Upon asking, Haruhi replied, “None of your business.”

As usual, she merely sounded pissed without actually revealing what she was thinking. There was no way she was going to tell me why she cut her hair.

Well, I expected as much.

“Did you really try joining all the clubs?”

Afterward, conversing with Haruhi in the short period before homeroom became a daily event. Not only did I have to initiate the conversation every time, I had to be careful in choosing subject matter since talking about what was on TV yesterday or the weather would elicit a “that’s dead boring” reaction from Haruhi.

“Let me know if you find one that’s fun. It’d be useful to know.”

“There aren’t any.”

An immediate response.

“There totally aren’t any at all.”

After repeating herself, Haruhi exhaled like butterfly wings fluttering. Was that supposed to be a sigh?

“I was expecting something better after entering high school, but this is no different than back in grammar and middle school. Maybe I chose the wrong place.”

“What criteria did
you
use to choose a school?”

“The athletic and arts clubs are all so normal. With so many clubs, you’d think there’d be at least one weird one.”

“How exactly do you decide if it’s normal or weird?”

“Any club I like is weird. Everything else is totally normal. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Really? Obvious, is it? First I’ve heard about it.”

“Hmph.”

She looked away, and the day’s conversation came to an end.

Another day came.

“I heard this rumor.”

“Probably something worthless, right?”

“Is it true that you’ve dumped every guy you went out with?”

“What gives you the right to ask me that?”

Haruhi brushed her hair off her shoulder and glared at me with her dark black eyes. Man, the only time her face showed any emotion was when she was pissed off.

“You heard that from Taniguchi? I can’t believe I’m still in the same class with him in high school. Maybe he’s a stalker.”

“I doubt it.” I think.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but fine. It’s probably all true.”

“There seriously wasn’t a single guy you wanted to go out with?”

“Totally not.”

It appeared she had a habit of using the word “totally.”

“Every single one of them was ridiculously lame. Meet in front of the station on Sunday and do something obvious like watch a movie, go to the amusement park, or watch a sporting event. Then have lunch at a fast food place. Wander around and get a drink. Bye, see you tomorrow. What, that’s it?”

I was wondering what she found wrong with that, but I kept my mouth shut. If Haruhi thinks there’s a problem, then by all means, a problem there must be.

“And what’s up with most of them asking me out over the phone? Important matters like that should be done in person!”

As I channeled the psyche of a guy who probably found it hard to make such an important—at least for him—confession while being glared at like an insect, I decided to play along for now.

“Well, I guess so. I’d probably just ask her in person.”

“That’s not important!”

Make up your mind.

“The problem is that every man on this planet is worthless. Honestly, I was irritated for most of middle school.”

You still are.

“Then what kind of a guy did you want? I’m guessing an alien?”

“An alien. Or something along those lines. In any case, as long as they aren’t an ordinary human, it doesn’t matter if they’re male or female.”

“Why are you so particular about non-humans?” As soon as I asked, Haruhi looked at me like I was retarded.

“Isn’t that more fun?!”

I suppose… she might be right.

I won’t argue with Haruhi’s opinion. I wouldn’t mind if a mysterious, beautiful transfer student was actually half-alien, half-human. And if that moron Taniguchi, sitting nearby trying to spy on Haruhi and me, had actually been an investigator from the future, that would have been pretty cool. And if Ryoko Asakura, who was smiling in my direction for some reason, had actually been an esper, life at school would have been a bit more fun.

But it’s all impossible. Aliens, time travelers, and espers couldn’t possibly exist. Even if they did, they wouldn’t just pop up in front of us. Besides, there’s no way someone would walk up to me and say, “Hey. Guess what? I’m actually an alien,” by way of introduction for no reason at all.

“And that’s why!” Haruhi yelled out, knocking her chair down in the process. Everyone in the class turned around.

“And that’s why I’m working so hard!”

“Sorry I’m late!” Our homeroom teacher, Okabe, looking bright, cheerful and out of breath, rushed in, took a look at Haruhi, standing with her fist in the air and glaring at the ceiling, and at everybody else in the classroom looking at Haruhi in unison, and froze in bewilderment.

“Ah… homeroom’s starting.”

Haruhi plopped back into her chair and began fervently staring at a corner of her desk. Whew.

I turned back toward the front of the room, the rest of the class did the same, and teacher Okabe staggered over to his podium and cleared his throat.

“Sorry I’m late. Ah… homeroom’s starting.”

And with that reiteration of his opening remarks, we returned to our daily mundane routine. This daily mundane routine is probably what Haruhi detested most.

But isn’t that how life goes?

Still. I couldn’t ignore this crazy feeling in the dark corner of my heart that envied Haruhi’s way of life.

She was still eagerly waiting for a chance encounter with the extraordinary, something I had given up on long ago. And you can’t deny that she was going all out for it. It’s not like aliens are going to fall out of the sky if you wait long enough. Haruhi’s point was that in that case, we should reach out to them. Thus, the markings on the grounds, the painting on the roof, and the talismans around school.

Geez Louise. (Do people even say that anymore?)

I don’t know when Haruhi began doing things to make spectators think she’s some sort of mental patient. But I guess that if she had already spent a long time waiting before running out of patience, and attempting bizarre rituals with no results, it would make perfect sense for her to end up always looking like she hated the whole world, right? Or I guess not.

“Hey, Kyon.”

During break, Taniguchi came over with a moody expression plastered on his face. “That expression really makes you look like a moron, Taniguchi.”

“Screw you. Forget about that. Anyway, what kind of magic did you use, Kyon?”

“What do you mean by magic?” I responded, as I recalled the saying that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Sticking his thumb at Haruhi’s seat, which Haruhi, true to form, had vacated the instant class ended, Taniguchi said, “I’ve never seen Suzumiya talk that long before. What did you say to her?”

“Dunno. What did I say? I get the feeling I just asked whatever was on my mind.”

Taniguchi had this overly exaggerated look of shock on this face. “It’s the end of the world.” Kunikida popped out from behind him.

“Kyon’s always liked weird girls.”

“Don’t say things that can be misconstrued,” I replied.

“I don’t give a damn about whether or not Kyon likes weird girls,” said Taniguchi. “What I want to understand is how Suzumiya and Kyon managed to hold an actual conversation. I can’t accept it.”

“If I had to guess, wouldn’t it be because Kyon would also be categorized as a weirdo?”