anyone want to help her. But seeing as how there was no guarantee that such helpers would be persons of good repute, I would have to do it myself.
“I’m sorry,” she said in an adorably sad voice. “Causing you trouble again, I—”
“No, not at all,” I answered quickly before she could finish. “I’m the one who sent you here in the first place, right? Future me’s the one at fault here.”
He and Asahina the Elder both. For being our future selves, they sure weren’t very nice to us. Did people from the future just hate the past, or what?
I grabbed the envelope I’d shoved into my pocket.
On the note, which had no indication of recipient or sender, there was simply written: Please take care of the Mikuru Asahina beside you.
That was all. I’d seen the careful handwriting before. The previous spring, I’d visited the clubroom during lunch in response to a similar missive, where I met the curvaceous form of Asahina the Elder before she told me where her mole was, in addition to more important hints. She was definitely the sender.
But still—even if I was supposed to “take care” of this Asahina, what did that mean? What could I do? Hadn’t Asahina the Elder told me I could even kiss her, if I wanted to?
Incidentally, I’d already shown the letter to the Asahina who was right here. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. She could understand what “Please take care of Mikuru Asahina” meant. If this message had been meant for my eyes only, that part would’ve said “me” instead of “Mikuru Asahina.”
“What could this mean…?” murmured Asahina, as she held the letter, staring intently at it. She seemed not to realize that she was the one who would end up writing it.
She would probably gradually come to that realization, though. During the second visit to December eighteenth, she’d noticed a fourth person, someone besides me, Nagato, and Asakura. She’d been put immediately to sleep, but
because
she’d been put to sleep, she must have sensed the other woman’s presence.
And the previous month, when I’d saved that kid in glasses from being hit by a minivan near Haruhi’s house, and Asahina had been so depressed that I’d clumsily tried to cheer her up—surely she’d gotten some information from me then. I didn’t know how much she’d figured out by now, but Koizumi was right: the members of the SOS Brigade were gradually changing.
According to Koizumi, the rate at which Haruhi created closed space was decreasing.
Also according to Koizumi, Nagato’s alienness was lessening.
And Koizumi himself, he’d changed a bit too.
Isn’t that right, Mister Lieutenant Brigade Chief?
From what I could tell, although it was gradual, Haruhi was starting to engage with the people around her more. She’d been a substitute vocalist during the school festival, and when you compared activities like her game battle against the computer club and the winter training camp with her isolated state at the beginning of the year, she was like a different person now, smiling, happy, and able to reach mutual understandings with complete strangers.
—If there are any aliens, time travelers, sliders, or espers, come join me!
—We’re going to search for aliens, time travelers, and espers, and have fun with them!
It was like she knew it had come true.
I wanted to think that all of these things were signs of her growth as a person.
As to my own growth, I had no idea.
A half hour later, it was into my own home that I wound up escorting Asahina.
“Oh, I see!” she said as she entered, taking off her shoes. “This is why you weren’t in the clubroom today.”
Her carefree voice had an admiring tone.
Since I couldn’t very well let her go back to her own home, and in lieu of any better options, I’d asked if there were any other people from her era that she could possibly stay with.
“There might well be, but I haven’t been informed of them,” she told me, her face
“I’m sorry,” she said in an adorably sad voice. “Causing you trouble again, I—”
“No, not at all,” I answered quickly before she could finish. “I’m the one who sent you here in the first place, right? Future me’s the one at fault here.”
He and Asahina the Elder both. For being our future selves, they sure weren’t very nice to us. Did people from the future just hate the past, or what?
I grabbed the envelope I’d shoved into my pocket.
On the note, which had no indication of recipient or sender, there was simply written: Please take care of the Mikuru Asahina beside you.
That was all. I’d seen the careful handwriting before. The previous spring, I’d visited the clubroom during lunch in response to a similar missive, where I met the curvaceous form of Asahina the Elder before she told me where her mole was, in addition to more important hints. She was definitely the sender.
But still—even if I was supposed to “take care” of this Asahina, what did that mean? What could I do? Hadn’t Asahina the Elder told me I could even kiss her, if I wanted to?
Incidentally, I’d already shown the letter to the Asahina who was right here. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. She could understand what “Please take care of Mikuru Asahina” meant. If this message had been meant for my eyes only, that part would’ve said “me” instead of “Mikuru Asahina.”
“What could this mean…?” murmured Asahina, as she held the letter, staring intently at it. She seemed not to realize that she was the one who would end up writing it.
She would probably gradually come to that realization, though. During the second visit to December eighteenth, she’d noticed a fourth person, someone besides me, Nagato, and Asakura. She’d been put immediately to sleep, but
because
she’d been put to sleep, she must have sensed the other woman’s presence.
And the previous month, when I’d saved that kid in glasses from being hit by a minivan near Haruhi’s house, and Asahina had been so depressed that I’d clumsily tried to cheer her up—surely she’d gotten some information from me then. I didn’t know how much she’d figured out by now, but Koizumi was right: the members of the SOS Brigade were gradually changing.
According to Koizumi, the rate at which Haruhi created closed space was decreasing.
Also according to Koizumi, Nagato’s alienness was lessening.
And Koizumi himself, he’d changed a bit too.
Isn’t that right, Mister Lieutenant Brigade Chief?
From what I could tell, although it was gradual, Haruhi was starting to engage with the people around her more. She’d been a substitute vocalist during the school festival, and when you compared activities like her game battle against the computer club and the winter training camp with her isolated state at the beginning of the year, she was like a different person now, smiling, happy, and able to reach mutual understandings with complete strangers.
—If there are any aliens, time travelers, sliders, or espers, come join me!
—We’re going to search for aliens, time travelers, and espers, and have fun with them!
It was like she knew it had come true.
I wanted to think that all of these things were signs of her growth as a person.
As to my own growth, I had no idea.
A half hour later, it was into my own home that I wound up escorting Asahina.
“Oh, I see!” she said as she entered, taking off her shoes. “This is why you weren’t in the clubroom today.”
Her carefree voice had an admiring tone.
Since I couldn’t very well let her go back to her own home, and in lieu of any better options, I’d asked if there were any other people from her era that she could possibly stay with.
“There might well be, but I haven’t been informed of them,” she told me, her face
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