example more or less covered my current situation. My nerves had been on a roller-coaster ride for the better part of this year, courtesy of the bizarre happenings associated with Haruhi, but that would no longer be a concern for me, apparently.
However—
Haruhi wasn’t here, Koizumi wasn’t here, Nagato and Asahina were ordinary humans, and the SOS Brigade had vanished without a trace. No aliens, time travel, or ESP. Forget about talking cats. This is an exceedingly ordinary world.
So?
Which one was a better fit for me? Which one would please me more?
Was I happy right now?
After school, I headed to the literary club room out of habit. If you do the same thing every day long enough, your body will move by itself, a typical example of automatic behavior. The same as how you unconsciously wash yourself in a certain order in the shower, like clockwork.
Whenever class ended I would head for the SOS Brigade and drink Asahina’s tea while playing a game with Koizumi and listening to Haruhi’s incoherent babbling. Habits are hard to break, even the bad ones, or especially the bad ones, I suppose.
But the mood was a little different today.
“What do I do with this?”
I was looking at the blank application form as I walked. Nagato probably gave this to me yesterday as an invitation to join the literary club. But I don’t know why she would invite me. Because there weren’t any other members and the club was in danger of getting cut? Still, it was gutsy of her to ask me to join her club after I came out of nowhere and practically assaulted her. I guess that Nagato is still an oddball in this messed-up world.
“Wah.”
I was on my way to the clubhouse when I passed by the Asahina/Tsuruya combo again. It pained me to see the lovely upperclassman jump and cling to Tsuruya the second she saw me, so I quickly bowed and left in a hurry. I can’t wait to return to drinking Asahina’s delicious tea on a daily basis.
This time, I knocked and heard a soft reply. Only then did I open the door.
In the clubroom, Nagato’s gaze swept across my facial epidermis before returning to the book before her. The act of pushing up her glasses almost looked like a greeting to me.
“Was it okay for me to come back?”
Her small head bobbed up and down. But her eyes remained focused on the open book and she never looked up.
I dropped my bag and began looking around for something to do, but the desolate room didn’t provide much to work with, so I was left to stare at the bookshelves.
They were packed with books of all sizes. There were more hardcover books than paperbacks. I’d have to guess that this Nagato was also a fan of thick books.
Silence.
I should have been used to sitting in silence with Nagato, but under the circumstances it was agonizing. I had to say something or I’d have a meltdown.
“Are these books all yours?”
Her response came immediately.
“Some were here before I joined.”
Nagato showed me the cover of the hardback in her hands.
“I borrowed this one. From the public library.”
There was a bar code sticker to show that it belonged to the city. The laminated cover reflected the fluorescent light and for a second Nagato’s glasses were sparkling.
That was the end of the conversation as Nagato returned to quietly reading her thick book and I was left feeling out of place.
The silence was unbearably suffocating. I grasped for a randomtopic of conversation and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you ever write your own stories?”
A three-quarter beat passed.
“I only read.”
Her eyes, hidden behind the lenses of her glasses, darted toward the computer for a moment, an action I didn’t miss. I see. That would explain what she was doing before I was allowed to use the computer. I became very interested in reading a story written by Nagato. What would she write? Science fiction, I suppose. She wouldn’t write romance, would she?
“…”
It’d always been difficult to
However—
Haruhi wasn’t here, Koizumi wasn’t here, Nagato and Asahina were ordinary humans, and the SOS Brigade had vanished without a trace. No aliens, time travel, or ESP. Forget about talking cats. This is an exceedingly ordinary world.
So?
Which one was a better fit for me? Which one would please me more?
Was I happy right now?
After school, I headed to the literary club room out of habit. If you do the same thing every day long enough, your body will move by itself, a typical example of automatic behavior. The same as how you unconsciously wash yourself in a certain order in the shower, like clockwork.
Whenever class ended I would head for the SOS Brigade and drink Asahina’s tea while playing a game with Koizumi and listening to Haruhi’s incoherent babbling. Habits are hard to break, even the bad ones, or especially the bad ones, I suppose.
But the mood was a little different today.
“What do I do with this?”
I was looking at the blank application form as I walked. Nagato probably gave this to me yesterday as an invitation to join the literary club. But I don’t know why she would invite me. Because there weren’t any other members and the club was in danger of getting cut? Still, it was gutsy of her to ask me to join her club after I came out of nowhere and practically assaulted her. I guess that Nagato is still an oddball in this messed-up world.
“Wah.”
I was on my way to the clubhouse when I passed by the Asahina/Tsuruya combo again. It pained me to see the lovely upperclassman jump and cling to Tsuruya the second she saw me, so I quickly bowed and left in a hurry. I can’t wait to return to drinking Asahina’s delicious tea on a daily basis.
This time, I knocked and heard a soft reply. Only then did I open the door.
In the clubroom, Nagato’s gaze swept across my facial epidermis before returning to the book before her. The act of pushing up her glasses almost looked like a greeting to me.
“Was it okay for me to come back?”
Her small head bobbed up and down. But her eyes remained focused on the open book and she never looked up.
I dropped my bag and began looking around for something to do, but the desolate room didn’t provide much to work with, so I was left to stare at the bookshelves.
They were packed with books of all sizes. There were more hardcover books than paperbacks. I’d have to guess that this Nagato was also a fan of thick books.
Silence.
I should have been used to sitting in silence with Nagato, but under the circumstances it was agonizing. I had to say something or I’d have a meltdown.
“Are these books all yours?”
Her response came immediately.
“Some were here before I joined.”
Nagato showed me the cover of the hardback in her hands.
“I borrowed this one. From the public library.”
There was a bar code sticker to show that it belonged to the city. The laminated cover reflected the fluorescent light and for a second Nagato’s glasses were sparkling.
That was the end of the conversation as Nagato returned to quietly reading her thick book and I was left feeling out of place.
The silence was unbearably suffocating. I grasped for a randomtopic of conversation and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you ever write your own stories?”
A three-quarter beat passed.
“I only read.”
Her eyes, hidden behind the lenses of her glasses, darted toward the computer for a moment, an action I didn’t miss. I see. That would explain what she was doing before I was allowed to use the computer. I became very interested in reading a story written by Nagato. What would she write? Science fiction, I suppose. She wouldn’t write romance, would she?
“…”
It’d always been difficult to
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