The Intrigues of Haruhi Suzumiya (26 page)

I was mindful of the time we spent at the café, and though Haruhi was even more carefree than she’d been before, I didn’t have time to worry about that. She’d been this way ever since the treasure hunt, so she must have just felt physically unwell during her bad mood early in the month.

It was strange to see Haruhi grinning and whispering something into Asahina’s ear; whatever she said, it made Asahina smile brightly. I wanted to know what it was, but in any case, Koizumi and Nagato were their usual selves, so it didn’t seem like any cataclysms were imminent.

I slurped the foam that remained in the bottom of my mostly
empty cup of espresso, as Haruhi slid the check over to me and stood up.

It was ten o’clock on the dot.

There was plenty of time to walk over to the river.

We were to meet back up at noon, which gave me more than enough time to go put the turtle in the river and return.

I watched Haruhi, Koizumi, and Asahina recede into the distance. “Sorry,” I said to Nagato. “Would you mind going to the library on your own? I should be able to come and get you in an hour.”

“I see,” Nagato answered, drawing her duffle coat’s hood up, which completely hid her head.

“Nagato, do you know what it is that Asahina and I are doing?”

“Something necessary,” Nagato murmured as she began to walk down the road that would take her to the library.

“Necessary for whom?”

“For you and for Mikuru Asahina.”

Not for her? Not for Haruhi or Koizumi? I asked.

“…”

Nagato continued to silently walk. Eventually I heard her voice from within her hood. “That possibility exists. It is still unclear.”

From where I stood, I could see her shoulders slacken, whereupon she suddenly turned and fixed my face in her crystalline pupils.

“However—” Her hair shifted in the wind. “It will become clear soon. In which case, I will move. As will Itsuki Koizumi.”

Nagato’s short, declarative speaking style had always been that way, ever since I’d met her.

“Our direction is the same. Mine and yours.”

Having seemingly reached a conclusion, Nagato turned and began to walk quietly away. This time, I didn’t follow her.

“Thanks, Nagato.”

Embarrassment made my voice low. I didn’t know whether the receding hooded figure could hear me or not, but I was certain she understood my feelings. Nagato was certainly clever enough to do that much.

Along the way, I’d figured something else out—that Nagato, Koizumi, Asahina, and I were all jointly and mutually responsible. In the center shone the brilliant star known as Haruhi, and we were all planets that orbited around her. I didn’t know how long it had been that way, but if Mars or Venus were to suddenly disappear from the night sky, not only would it be rather sad, it would be a big problem for astrologers. And for me. Until we knew with total certainty that Martians and Venusians didn’t exist, I didn’t want them to just up and disappear. There are a lot of things that you take for granted until they’re gone. Like lead for your mechanical pencil, when you’re in the middle of a test. Okay, that was a stupid example. But in any case, I didn’t want to feel the terrible sense of loss I’d felt last December ever again.

“Nagato’s taught me something again.”

She’d taught me that the path I should take had been long since decided.

Half an hour later, I arrived at the riverbank. The abnormal autumnally blooming cherry blossoms were nowhere to be seen; there were only bare brown branches, waiting frigidly for spring’s arrival. As I made my way to the bench, I looked down the river, which was at low ebb. It was a typical raised-bed river, with a distance of maybe three meters between the bank and the surface of the water. Thanks to the prudent construction of the dikes on either side, the river had a tidy feel to it. With only a few centimeters of water in the bottom, the river was low, but it was still very
pleasant. Come summer, there would be children chasing wildly after the small fish it contained, but here in the dead of winter none wanted to approach the frigid flow.

That may or may not have been the reason, but in any case the bench where Asahina had once confessed her true identity as a time traveler was unoccupied. Despite it being Sunday, there weren’t many people who wanted to take a nice riverside walk when it was this cold out, so the tree-lined path was nearly deserted. There was one bored-looking dog being silently walked by its shivering owner, but that was it.

Just as I was listening to the babble of the flowing water and really playing the part of the lonely high school lad to the hilt, my clever reverie was interrupted.

“Kyon!”

Having descended the stairs that led from the roadside, Asahina stepped onto the riverbank. She was indeed carrying the turtle’s container, but had forgotten to wear her flu mask from yesterday—but with her knit cap and shawl, she still gave off a very different impression from the usual Asahina look, so I supposed it was all right. This would be the last day, anyway.

Asahina faced me and waved, then looked back over her shoulder at the road. When I looked, I saw what must have been the car from the Tsuruya estate driving away—it was a fancy domestic auto, every inch the wealthy family’s second car. We’d have to make sure to thank the driver.

It was ten forty-four
AM
. Once I walked to the river’s edge with Asahina, it was ten forty-five. Perfect timing.

“The water looks so cold…” Asahina looked down at the lazily flowing river, then held the case that contained the turtle up to her eye level. “I wonder if the turtle will be able to grow up healthy.” My petite older classmate showed kindness to even the smallest animal. “Wait just a moment.”

She placed the case on the ground and opened the lid, then produced the box of feed from her coat pocket. The pond turtle
craned his neck up toward the suddenly vanished roof, and when Asahina brought the feed closer, it gulped the treat down in a single bite. It had gotten quite fond of her in just a single night. That was Asahina for you.

I felt bad separating the two of them, but soon the time would be upon us. There were only three minutes to go until ten fifty.

“We’ll come again in spring,” I said soothingly, as I picked up the pond turtle. Unconcerned, the turtle sat quietly in the palm of my hand. “I’m sure we’ll be able to see him again once he’s gotten bigger.”

It was all I could say, though I had no reason to believe it was true. I shook off Asahina’s worried gaze, wound up for the throw. Just as I leaned back in preparation for my underhand toss—

“Excuse me!”

I heard a sudden voice from behind me and nearly wound up tumbling into the river, still holding the turtle. I tottered and stumbled, but managed to steady myself on dry ground, whereupon I immediately turned around.

“Thank you very much for helping me!”

It was a young boy wearing glasses, his voice youthful and his head politely bowed. It was the same boy I’d saved from being killed in a traffic accident a month earlier, and nearby whom Haruhi lived and occasionally served as his tutor.

“Ah…”

Asahina seemed surprised; I certainly was. I never thought we’d meet again.

“What are you doing?” The boy’s features were very different from my sister’s—sharp and intelligent. He looked at Asahina and me, and at the turtle I held. Just as I was about to tell him that that was a question
we
should be asking
him
—

“I’m on my way to cram school,” he said clearly, before I even had the chance to ask. He indicated the book bag over his shoulder. “I always come this way. That’s what I was doing that day too.”

He bowed again, then looked confusedly down at the case on the ground, then at the now struggling shelled reptile in my hand.

“Are you going to let that turtle go?”

“Uh, yeah…” I answered, feeling freshly guilty. Both Asahina and the boy seemed to overflow with sympathy for the turtle as they looked at it. I felt their wordless appeal—
Why do you have to throw this poor little turtle into a freezing river?
But there wasn’t anything I could do. I had to do this.

My watch indicated one minute to go. I couldn’t just stand here doing nothing. I racked my slow-witted brain for some kind of solution.

“Hey, kid, are pets allowed in your house? I mean—would your parents be okay if you came home with this little guy?”

The boy pushed his glasses up. “I think so. If I took care of him, I mean.”

“I see. Hang on a sec.”

Still holding the turtle by his back, I crouched down beside the river. With three meters separating the riverbank where we were from the water’s surface, the distance wasn’t too far. The current was weak, so I wouldn’t lose sight of the turtle.

I gave the turtle a gentle toss—like tossing a feather, trying to keep the impact from being too forceful.

The turtle fell into the river with a
plop
, leaving behind a series of concentric ripples that moved lazily downriver.

The boy watched the scene as though holding his breath.

Having sunk, the turtle seemed to kick off the river bottom, then stuck his head out. He almost looked bewildered at the ripples he was causing as he floated along. After a short time, he started swimming, and finally he climbed atop a rock and stuck his neck out. He didn’t really seem like he was saying good-bye to us—more likely he was marveling in his turtle-ish way at his suddenly expanded world.

The ripples he made were washed away, but the turtle remained.

I didn’t know what Asahina the Elder had anticipated, but her instructions only went as far as throwing the turtle in the river. Which meant that once I’d done that, I could do whatever I wanted with the turtle after that. That’s what I kept telling myself as I removed my shoes and socks. Once I’d rolled up the legs of my pants, I was ready to go, and as Asahina and the boy watched wide-eyed, I climbed down from the bank. The water was just as cold as it looked, and the bottom was coated in some kind of slimy, mossy substance that did not feel good, but I’d played in many a stream with my cousins in the countryside when I was little, so this was nothing.

“Sorry, turtle.”

The pond turtle lifted his head up. He didn’t try to escape when I brought my hand near, and I was able to easily retrieve him. For the turtle’s part, he probably wanted to ask me why the hell I threw him in the river, if I was just going to go in and fetch him back. Fortunately I had no facility in turtle-ese. Holding him in one hand, I climbed back up onto the bank. By the time I put the turtle back in his case, the chill had crept from my feet all the way up to my neck. Ugh, I was going to have stomach trouble later, I could tell.

I sat down and lifted my feet into the air to shake off the excess water.

“All right, kid, the turtle’s all yours.”

“Can I really have it?” the boy asked hesitantly. He’d seen everything I’d done. “I mean, didn’t you have a reason for throwing this turtle into the river?”

I was no better equipped than the turtle himself to satisfy his childish curiosity—after all, even I didn’t understand the purpose of what I was doing.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I don’t think the turtle really wanted to get tossed into a freezing river in the middle of winter. If you’ll take care of him, I think he’d like that a lot better.”

I wondered about Asahina. She’d said the directions in the
letter absolutely had to be followed, but nothing I’d done went against them. I was a little worried about it, but then I saw Asahina gently handing the box of food to the boy.

“Take this too. It’s turtle food.” Then, sounding big-sisterish: “Make sure you take good care of him. Promise?”

“I promise.”

He was a little bit of a brat, but he didn’t seem like a bad kid. He hugged the turtle case and feed box tightly. “I’ll always take good care of him,” he said sincerely—more sincerely than he needed to show, honestly.

“Oh, hey, kid, promise me one more thing.” I had to make sure of one thing. I’d been careless last time, and it had almost been a disaster. The memory still echoed in my mind. “There’s a Haruhi Suzumiya who lives close to you, right?”

“Yes. Haruhi’s always taking care of me; she’s like my big sister.”

The words “big sister” sounded very strange in the context of Haruhi.

“You’ve gotta keep this a secret from Haruhi, got that? You can’t tell her that you saw me or Asahina… I mean, the bunny lady, and you can’t tell her we gave you the turtle. Can you promise me that?”

“I promise.” The boy nodded, his face serious. Well, that was one thing I didn’t have to worry about anymore.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take him home?” Asahina piped up. “Your parents won’t tell you not to take things from strangers?”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll just tell them something else.” The boy straightened. “I’ll tell them that some people were doing experiments on the turtle, and they didn’t need him anymore so they were gonna throw him away, but I happened to pass by and felt sorry for him, so they let me have him. That’s what I’ll say. My folks’ll definitely let me keep him.”

The kid had his business together. My little sister could have
stood to learn a thing or two from him. They were the same age, but there was a huge difference—I guessed it came down to environment.

“I have to get to cram school now, so I’ll be going.”

The boy bowed dutifully. Asahina laid the palm of her hand on his head.

“Don’t forget the promise you made before. Be careful of cars. Make sure you don’t get in any accidents—and make sure to study hard. If you do, I’m sure you’ll grow up to be an important person. One whom everyone will remember for a very long time.”

Asahina extended her little finger, at which the boy showed a bashfulness appropriate to his age. He hesitantly hooked his little finger around hers, thus completing the pinky promise. Seeing the two of them with their linked pinkies like that was ridiculously adorable.

The boy ticklishly pulled his pinky away, then, holding the turtle case as though it were the most precious treasure, walked off, occasionally looking over his shoulder and dipping his head in a bow. Asahina waved to him until he had vanished from sight, and I’d completely dried my feet and gotten my shoes back on before she finally dropped her hand.