Disclaimer: The series begun with the light novel 'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi'/'Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu' is the creation of Nagaru Tanigawa. No disrespect is intended with the creation of this work.
Sitting at his desk in his own apartment, Kyon couldn't help but think of his recent visit to an old friend's place. He should have been focusing on an article, and his laptop had all of his transcribed notes from his last 'investigation' before him, but comparison between her place and his felt inevitable. They weren't exact opposites, but there were few similarities between them.
The space he had to use was slightly larger than hers, but he suspected the real estate value was less despite that. He lived in an uninteresting area, mostly surrounded by college students or young salary-men and office ladies preparing to move up in the world. It was a quiet neighborhood, not nearly as developed as the downtown district where her apartment was situated.
Looking around, the walls were almost all lined with bookshelves. Some small bits of space here and there were occupied by pictures, the most notable of them being a Hokusai reproduction. It was probably one of the best known examples, 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa,' and a gift from his parents to help make his apartment feel more like a home once he'd settled in. The bookshelves themselves were crammed full of notebooks and reference texts, binders of photographs, envelopes, and various trinkets and mementos from his work.
It was all as neatly organized as he could manage, but he still felt a strong temptation to clean anyway. Then again, considering the guest he was anticipating at some only vaguely specified time, she'd spot or deduce anything he did to change the setup. The desire to make the place look more presentable warred briefly with the urge to leave things as they were and show the truth of his home.
Either indifferent to the turmoil, or in commiseration, the tri-colored cat that had been in his company for slightly over a decade padded into the room and unhesitatingly hopped into his lap.
He shook his head and scratched the feline behind his ears before the doorbell rang. Just as well!
Pushing away from the desk, he closed the lid of his laptop and carefully set Shamisen next to it, the cat settling back to watch him and lashing his tail. It was only a few steps around the kotatsu that took most of the living room floor up to reach the door, and he opened it, prepared to apologize for a delay as he gathered his wallet and car keys.
But judging by Sasaki's mischievous smile and the bag of takeout in her hand, they wouldn't be going anywhere.
"Turnabout is fair play," he mused aloud, before shaking his head and inviting her in properly. "It's good to see you again, as always, Sasaki."
"Pardon my intrusion; it's good to see you as well Kyon," she answered, stepping in and slipping her shoes off. Her eyes went first to the kotatsu, where she set the bag down, and then to the crowded shelves, taking in all the details, one object of curiosity at a time. He realized belatedly she'd brought two bags, though he was uncertain of the contents.
"I suppose that it would be somewhat nonsensical to expect you to take the train all the way here, just for us to drive somewhere," he added with a shrug. "Eh, my skills haven't improved very much, but I'll put on some tea. What did you bring?"
"It's only curry," she said, somewhat apologetically. "I had considered something closer to where I live, as I know the area better, but given the length of the trip, would not be able to guarantee it would arrive in good condition. This was the best compromise of being nearby and well rated, at least, according to the information I was able to look up on my phone."
He nodded, stepping into the kitchen.
Glancing at the teapot he'd already set up, she noted, "But for all of my intent to visit your home as a pleasant surprise, I see you anticipated this already. Hmm, has the trope of the great detective once again come into play?"
"It seems to be a bit of recurring theme." He couldn't help but chuckle as he switched the kettle on. "But in truth, I've only set the teapot up; I hadn't set it to heat in advance. It was less of any deduction and more an expectation that I should prepare for any possibility. Wouldn't it be a presumption if I had completely planned on your generosity?"
"Ah," she sighed, still smiling. "Well, it appears my hope of surprising you was not to be -- but then, I am also glad that I was able to break from the suggested path without it being unwelcome, either. Oh! There is one other thing--"
He looked up curiously, but she merely winked before retreating to the front room. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the kettle. When he turned back, she had returned, holding up a much smaller bag with a box inside.
"As it was forgotten last time, yukimi daifuku!" she explained.
He shook his head wryly, accepting it with a wry grin. "That, I had forgotten," he admitted, stowing it in the freezer for later. "Something to look forward to for later. In the meantime...." He turned the stove off and carefully poured the hot water over the tea leaves.
The two of them returned to the front room, each taking a cushion on opposite sides of the table. She moved one of the plastic bags from the space between them to the floor, making him wonder at the contents, but his attention was quickly taken by the takeout containers she set before each of them. "I hope it's good," she added, "though, it's likely to be better than anything I could actually make."
"I'm hardly a world class chef myself," he assured her. "Hmm, I tried my hand in college, and am evidently 'passable' in most regards, but otherwise, have inherited my mother's cooking skills. So, I can't think there's any shame in utilizing the same cooking technique I generally rely on."
She tilted her head slightly to one side, her attention still being drawn to the shelves.
"Something wrong?" he wondered, before opening the container before him.
She shook her head. "Ah, no," she said. "Not 'wrong.' I was just thinking that your home is almost precisely what I'd expected."
Raising an eyebrow, he followed her gaze to a piece of shimenawa he'd been left with from a visit to a shrine in years past. The length of braided straw rope still had the zig-zagging white paper shide strips hanging from it at regular intervals. "Is that out of place?" he wondered.
"Well, to be honest, I thought you might have had a full harai gushi!" she exclaimed.
He shrugged good-naturedly. "I don't know that I need to ritually purify anything, and I'm not any sort of priest anyway," he demurred. "I didn't mind accepting the rope. In fact, the priest who insisted I take it wanted it put in my car. I relocated it here, but couldn't throw it away if it was so meaningful to him."
"So now it protects your notebooks from evil spirits?" she teased gently.
"Well, there's a picture of Imouto back there, too, so it might actually be a barrier protecting me, and holding her evil in check!"
"I thought she was quite charming," Sasaki countered, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Kyon. "Ah, but what I meant to say is that your home feels very inviting." She paused, touching a fingertip to her cheek. "Hmm, I think I got to visit your room once when you were attending Kitago? Even though it had been a long time since I'd seen it, the same feeling from our study sessions before that remained -- and now it's here."
He scratched the back of his head, considering that. "I never really thought about it," he admitted. "Still, to hear that -- it's quite flattering." He poured tea for both of them from the kettle, deciding it had steeped long enough. "Shamisen must have decided it's nap-time," he added, indicating the corner with the computer desk, where the feline had arranged itself across the closed laptop, to better absorb the heat it was still radiating.
"Well, I wanted to see your room again," she admitted, giving a small shrug. "And I'm grateful for the opportunity, even if your cat is too tired to visit!"
"It's not much, but I'm happy if you think it's enough, Sasaki," he said mildly, as she opened her container.
He quickly followed suit, and they called the traditional, "Itadakimasu," together before sampling the curry and rice within.
It was what he'd expected; the place she'd gone was within walking distance, and he ended up going there himself about once every other week. It wasn't bad, in any case. "Thank you again for bringing this," he added. As it had been a few days since their excursion to see the green flash, he wondered, "The last time we spoke, your work was troubling you. Is it going any better?"
"Ah," she said thoughtfully, sipping her tea as her demeanor became more subdued. "It has not gotten worse," she said carefully. "I had mentioned that the ultimate outcome of some changes in the department structure had not yet become clear. I have not yet lost any of my current assignments, but I strongly suspect it will become exceedingly difficult to find new ones once they are completed."
She gave a small sigh and shrugged.
"Oh, well, too bad. At least I'll be able to finish what I started," she concluded.
After sampling a few more bites, he topped off the tea in her cup and sat back slightly, regarding her wordlessly.
"Ah, that look," she said with a small smile. "You want to say something, but don't know how to say it-- Would that be correct?"
"As usual, there's no reason to try and hide anything from you," he agreed with a shrug. "The thought I have is that this may represent an opportunity for you. Well, you have said you haven't been doing what you would like to do -- so why not look at it as an opportunity? Finish your current assignments and see if there's not some other option to pursue?"
She leaned back from her own meal slightly, taking the warm teacup in her hands contemplatively. The faintest wisps of steam escaped it as her expression became thoughtful. "It's true that I have said that, but initiative is different from desire. But you're also right that the current situation provides initiative itself. I suppose then that you would provide the impetus to take that initiative?"
"Uh, well, that seems to be thinking about it harder than I would," he said with a chuckle, "but if that works for you, I'm happy to be of service. That being said, what have you considered doing?"
"The real issue is that I enjoy the work I do, even if I don't particularly care about how it's being used at the moment," she continued. "Consider it as someone who makes tools for someone else to use, and doesn't approve of the current implementation -- like a swordscrafter who is unhappy with how the products of their trade are applied?"
"I understand that," he agreed, nodding.
"So I would like to do the same thing I already do, though I would not object to being part of a more unified team; competition should be between the company and what it wants to face. That is to say, I think effort between people who should be working together to compete is a waste of energy; it's counterproductive and leads to a less efficient performance for all.
"But in an environment such as the ones my role would be most helpful in, that level of personal competition is often seen as synonymous with the features that define a successful individual!" she continued, shrugging and spreading her hands helplessly, as if to ask, 'what can you do?'
Scratching his head, he agreed, "I read somewhere that people who were bullies in high-school often are the types that become management. There must be common subconscious elements in people that respond to social situations the same way. Someone who's popular in class...." He trailed off and shrugged himself, despite her emphatic nodding. While he had a fair grasp of the subject, by his thinking, she was an expert in the field, and he'd just as soon let her complete the thought to avoid embarrassing himself by stating something incorrect.
"That's precisely it," she agreed. "I admit, I hadn't thought closely about it, as I focused much more on doing the work itself, but over the last few weeks it has become exceptionally obvious. In any case, what sort of place would I be able to do the work I enjoy, and not be as likely to encounter that sort of mindset?"
"Something that would appear externally uncompetitive," he suggested thoughtfully, taking another bite from his dish.
"That was my thought as well," she agreed. "However, it seems to me that the ideal environment for it would be assisting a charitable organization."
He froze, chopsticks half way to his mouth, and lowered it, brow furrowing in confusion. "That seems a noble goal, but would your skills be useful there?" he asked uncertainly.
"I believe they might," she said with a cautious smile. "Advertising for a cause like that seems more worthwhile in any case. At the least, I would be able to feel better about what I do; as it does, even if the scale is scarcely comparable, I am made to think of how chagrined I would be if my name were to become attached to the studies I do. Certainly, someone who had worked on the Manhattan Project could not be pleased to realize that regardless of what else they chose to do or how nice they were, their names were eternally linked to such carnage and devastation."
"Ah," he sighed, giving her an encouraging nod. "I can certainly understand why you would want to advocate some cause or another, instead of what you do. Having your name tied with some noble cause would certainly result in a more positive feeling -- but what did you have in mind?"
"Well, since non-profit organizations have become more favorable to the government in recent years -- especially following natural disasters -- I've considered advocating for disaster relief programs," she explained. "They tend to gain a lot of support immediately after something goes wrong, but only for a brief period. It's important to keep awareness of such things always in mind, not just at troubling times!"
"Like when the Japanese Red Cross is flooded with blood donors immediately after an earthquake, and then suffers a lack of them in the following months when the unused donations spoil?" he wondered. He'd only read about that a few weeks ago, so the article was still recent in his mind.
She was nearly beaming at him as she nodded. "Precisely!" she agreed. "Then I would be able to both do something I enjoyed, and feel it was for a better cause!"
He rubbed his chin and nodded. It would probably be quite a challenge, but also something he expected she would enjoy. "I'm glad for you that's what you've chosen to do, then!" he encouraged, finishing the last of his curry and closing the container.
She blinked, mid-chew, then swallowed and made a face. "It's a thought, but I don't know if I could really do that," she demurred. "Even if I would enjoy it--"
"Well, why not?" he objected, raising an eyebrow. "You're unhappy at your current workplace, and it's becoming less hospitable -- so why stay instead of pursuing the opportunity you want to?"
Turning her attention to her dinner, she took a few more bites, slowly mulling it over. He excused himself to refill the teapot. By the time he'd finished changing the leaves and heating the water, she'd finished her curry and brought both containers to the kitchen, placing them in the Shamisen-resistant covered rubbish bin.
"It's a thought I can't deny the appeal of," she admitted, as he brought the fresh tea out, and she followed with the daifuku. "I suppose I can't deny the logic of the suggestion!"
"I only suggested you do what you seem to want to do anyway," he noted, as they returned to the living room. When he set down the kettle and retook his seat, she hesitated a moment, then chose the side to his left instead of opposite him.
"I suppose that's true," she allowed, presenting him with first choice of the chilled treats.
He took one of the pair of plastic picks in the container and carefully speared one of the treats, tasting the mochi of the outer surface, and the vanilla ice cream inside. He couldn't help but think of the brief story she had related on the beach -- of the ice cream she had lost on the beach. She had mentioned the taste of loss she said she recalled more clearly than the treat itself--
She gave a wry smile, shrugging as she took the other pick and deftly took one for herself as well. "I should well know the regret of not doing so. It feels both sudden, and as though it were something I was already trying to gain the courage for, but thanks to discussing it with you, I feel more confident about it!"
"Just like that?" he wondered.
"You are proof positive that you can pursue the path in life you want to," she countered. "I suppose I merely wanted additional encouragement!"
He scratched the back of his head at that, feeling his face warm up. "If I somehow was able to help, then I am flattered to have been of use, Sasaki," he chuckled.
"Of course ... the larger charities are all located in Kyoto or Tokyo, but as things stand it would be no effort to move..." she mused, tilting her head slightly to one side. "It was actually Minato-Ku, in Tokyo for the one that especially appealed to me; they announced an opening not long ago, which is why the entire thing came to mind."
That was a detail he hadn't much considered, but also made sense for international organizations. Despite the thought that it would move her far enough away that they wouldn't get many chances to visit, he encouraged her, "That sounds like a good fit for what you had hoped to do, then."
"Perhaps!" She looked speculative for a moment, then turned to the bag she'd left on the floor. "I mentioned that I had visited my mother to collect some mementos the last time we spoke," she said briskly. "We discussed what may or may not be 'real' in our relative pasts -- but there's something from our shared past that I thought it might be nice to look over again!"
With a small flourish, she produced a middle school yearbook, explaining why she had chosen to switch seats. "Ah!" he exclaimed in realization. "I ... should have one of those too, though I can't recall where it might be at the moment." He glanced at the shelves ruefully and sighed. "Probably in storage somewhere...."
"I wasn't certain, and I certainly couldn't think it would be proper to search through your things," she said, setting the thin tome on the kotatsu between them, in front of the box of daifuku. She situated herself comfortably, but before she could open it, Shamisen yawned from his spot.
Evidently deciding that the laptop wasn't warm enough anymore, or perhaps attracted by the scent of the daifuku, he hopped down, lighting at her side and sniffing curiously.
"Why, hello, there," she greeted the cat, tentatively scratching him behind one ear. The cat leaned into her hand with a mellow purr, taking that as all the initiative he needed to clamber into her lap and curl up comfortably, purring again.
While he wasn't tempted to follow suit, he did envy the cat's simple reasoning and lack of hesitation. It wasn't the first time he'd mused he might be envious of the lifestyle of the feline. "I wonder if it's more that he remembers you, or that he can tell you're a good person?" Kyon wondered, smiling softly at the creature.
"You think he's a good judge of character?" Sasaki laughed, tickling Shamisen underneath his chin.
He nodded, explaining, "Despite how much trouble she could be when she was small, he always tolerated my sister."
"This same sister you suggested should be sealed away?" she asked, arching one eyebrow higher.
"Only as a joke!" he insisted, raising his hands in a placating gesture, palms out. "In truth, I'm glad that he seems to enjoy your company; he's been with me since high-school, even if he has been slowing down in his age."
"I can tell that you are quite fond of him, just like you are of your sister," she mused, though her gaze was on the purring cat for the moment.
His eyebrows rose, but there wasn't any sense in denying it. His attitude toward his sister was playful; Sasaki was right, and she was important to him. "Well, that's true."
"But would I be right in guessing that Shamisen is also a living reminder of things that everyone else has forgotten?" she posed.
That he was, absolutely. Kyon nodded, not surprised she'd figured that out. Changing the subject slightly, he mentioned a different memory from long ago, commenting, "The last time you visited my room, you got to see my sister as well as Shamisen. There will be other opportunities, I suppose."
"I am very glad for the chance to visit with him, but it would be nice to see her again, too," she agreed, turning her attention to the book and cracking it open to a page near the back. "They are both important to you, after all, which makes them interesting to me! On that note, hmm, I wonder if you might find that Okamoto that you so admired?"
"Eh?" he replied, frowning. "Okamoto.... I barely remember her. What makes you think I admired her?"
"Didn't she always draw your eye?" Sasaki posed, flipping to a picture of the girl in question and pointing at it curiously.
He couldn't help but make a face. "Ah, yes. Well, she was pretty. I must confess that she did ensure to gather my attention, but not only mine. I hesitate to label someone so casually, but at least in middle school she seemed ... superficial. Her personality and appearance were not good matches." He could think of one student quite easily who he had found both attractive and to possess a more charming personality.
"Goodness!" Sasaki exclaimed, eyes widening. "I hadn't realized.... Well, at this point, she might well be 'Sudou' now, might she?"
He privately doubted that, given that in his recollection, Sudou had been more interested in Sasaki, but had left her alone because of the misconception that she was somehow involved with Kyon himself. Spending time together in cram school and visiting his house on occasion probably didn't help with that, and Sasaki was quite clearly already involved with someone else the summer of their middle school reunion. In theory, so was Kyon, but that hadn't been a subject of interest to any of their former classmates, and he expected none of them would remember at that point, anyway.
"Possibly," he allowed, seeing a way to broach the topic he was considering earlier. "Though, on that thought, I could just as well have been wrong when I called you 'Sasaki', as your own surname has changed twice."
"Technically, three times, since I changed it back," she corrected. "But that thought crossed my mind when you saw me at the station and called that name. Much like I can call you 'Kyon'."
That much felt like a mirror of what he'd thought to himself earlier.
"There should be another reunion soon, come to think of it," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose we can see her then and remove all doubt. Ah, all this time I had thought that you had a crush on Okamoto, and it seems that you actually didn't!"
"She was the class representative," he said with a shrug, glancing at the contentedly purring Shamisen. "But, no. I didn't have any courage to pursue anyone in middle school ... in fact, I even spent a substantial amount of time avoiding the idea of being in a relationship in high-school. After being rejected....
"In any case--"
"Why haven't I heard of this before?" she asked in surprise, eyebrows rising. "If it wasn't Okamoto, I never saw anyone else you seemed to show interest in! You were never so closed I couldn't read you, at least enough to suspect that was happening ... were you? Unless it happened before we became more than casual acquaintances?"
"Eh..." he trailed off, stymied. "How could you not know?"
"Hmm, spoken like that," she mused slowly, ruffling Shamisen's fur and stroking his head gently, "you must believe it was right before me. I will confess, at that time I had harbored a hope that you would show interest in me!" Laughing softly, she added, "But perhaps it is for the best we were only friends, after all!"
He could only stare at her blankly for a long minute before turning his head to the page before them. There were all of their classmates, of course, Okamoto only being one of them, but the tired image of himself and a cheerful Sasaki both stared back from the pages as well. Scratching the back of his head, he sighed, "I flatter myself sometimes to think I am almost as perceptive as you are, when it comes to reading people. At the same time, it appears that both of us somehow managed to overlook something that should probably have been much more obvious."
She tilted her head to one side, her gaze fixed on him, her expression curious, though it didn't cover the smile she'd had since she came over.
"Ah, let's see.... Long ago, when we were in middle school, do you recall a time when I asked what you thought of romance?" he posed.
"Certainly," she agreed, nodding. "Why...." She blinked in realization. "Oh, goodness!"
"Right," he sighed, offering a weak smile and a shrug. "In my own clumsy and cowardly way, I was trying to discover if you'd be receptive to a confession before I could muster the courage to do it properly. I had thought you saw right through me and decided to try and let me down gently by heading it off!"
She gasped, eyes wide as one hand flew to her mouth, though she looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh at the same time. "I must apologize," she said, shaking her head. "In truth, I was not considering myself as the subject of the question particularly; I had undertaken it as a more objective question and merely meant to give my own answer."
"It suddenly strikes me that you are a remarkably selfless person," he mused wryly. "Well, my mistake, then. Even in high-school, I wasn't really the courageous person to make a confession; I had to wait for someone else to make the first move and merely follow suit!" he completed.
Biting her lower lip, Sasaki contemplated their pictures, Shamisen raising his head and offering a softly questioning meow. As if it were a mild admonishment to continue patting the purring feline, she resumed the activity, musing, "It is in some ways an amusing miscommunication.... At the same time, we likely agreed at some point in the past that it must work out in such a way."
"How--" He broke off and nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, the past that we rewound. You're right, though; it shouldn't be considered an opportunity lost. The experiences we had made us the people we are today, right?"
"Precisely!" she agreed with an emphatic nod. "Things may not have gone the way we dreamed, but what we have borne witness to shaped and defined us!"
He nodded slowly, rubbing his chin absently. How could he be bitter over a lost opportunity like that? He and Sasaki managed to maintain their friendship, after all, and he'd been able to see things that few others in the world had been fortunate enough to see. He'd learned a greater appreciation for things that were amazing, even without being supernatural.
Even better, he'd gotten to share some of that wonder with others -- through small, impersonal bits, like his columns, and even more with the green flash he'd gotten to show Sasaki just recently.
"I think we might still be able to learn from things in our past, though," he said thoughtfully. "I can't help but think it would benefit you slightly more to be at least somewhat more selfish in your outlook."
"How do you-- Ah, of course. If I had, then I would have answered your question differently," she mused.
"Well, if at some point in the future a similar opportunity arises..." he started, somewhat lamely.
"I see your point," she answered, nodding slowly. "In fact, if I had perhaps been slightly more aggressive in company meetings in the last few months, I could be in a better position to see how things are handled."
That wasn't what he'd meant, but he nodded anyway. She gave him a thoughtful look for a long moment, still grinning as though she'd realized something, and was waiting for him to catch on. Well, with the past being the past, there was the idea that she was happier not being saddled with the responsibilities that being more selfish would have gotten her.
Sasaki's expression sobered, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, for all of this book of memories, I wish there were somehow a way for you to have a tangible reminder of her," Sasaki said apologetically. "I have all of the reminders I care for, so it would only be fair for you to have the same, after all."
He wondered at that; if the trade off were having no reminders for what he had seen, he would understand that well enough. "Well, we can't always have everything," he said with a shrug. "Sometimes it's merely a good meal with a dear friend, followed by daifuku. I think it really underscores that we must appreciate what we do have, doesn't it?
"Haruhi always insisted that everything happened for a reason, after all!"
"That seems reasonable!" she agreed, closing the book, but fumbling when an irate Shamisen nudged her arm in protest of the lack of attention. "A moment of patience, you," she laughed at the cat softly, as the yearbook's pages flipped to one side, and the cover fell back open.
"What's this?" Kyon wondered, raising his eyebrows at a photograph tucked inside the front cover of the yearbook. It had a note on the back in Sasaki's handwriting, though she herself looked puzzled for a moment before realization dawned.
"Ah, yes," she mused, smiling softly. "I was in a study group at the end of elementary school; we took a picture together at graduation, and I must have tucked it in here long ago." Ignoring the cat for a moment, she carefully pulled the photo out and raised her arm out of Shamisen's reach, flipping it over to study the image, and giving Kyon a better angle on reading the note written on the back.
Sasaki had written her name, and those of her friends, along with the date and a description of 'elementary school graduation'. Of course, Sasaki's surname was not 'Sasaki' at that time, which brought up the question he still hadn't found a way to phrase.
After that, and the musing over a lost opportunity much later in middle school, he wondered if it might be some unlikely hint from a supernatural force. Familiarity with such things grounded him almost immediately; he studied the supernatural extensively, because he had seen enough of the genuine article to know. What were the odds of that being an event of that sort, as opposed to a mere coincidence?
Really, the mind generated justifications for coincidental events and labeled them otherwise. Then again, just because a point was raised by random chance, that didn't mean it was without value or wrong. While he saw little value in the fortunes taken from shrines -- especially around the beginning of the new year -- he recognized that even without believing them to be true, it was easy to find a context where they became relevant and provided a structure for analysis.
His studies and research across the years pointed out similarities between the fortune telling methods of many separate cultures. So why shouldn't he take this random thing as impetus to consider things logically?
He had only just resolved himself to say something when Sasaki shook her head, dispelling her own surprise, and carefully lay the photograph down on the front page of the yearbook, this time face up. He determined to give it proper consideration before speaking, if it had stolen her attention for so long.
It must have been taken by a teacher, judging by the angle, looking slightly down at a much younger Sasaki, with longer hair. On either side of her were two other female elementary students, all of them smiling happily as they stood on the lawn before their school. However, before he could remark that she had been quite cute at that time, his attention went from the image of Sasaki, to another student, seeming to just be walking behind them in frame, turned almost to face the camera in passing, but not quite, captured mid-smirk.
"That-- That's Haruhi!" he couldn't help but sputter, remembering seeing her on one Tanabata evening, probably not very long after that picture was taken.
"So it is!" Sasaki exclaimed. "I had no idea-- But why would this be left, if all other evidence of her vanished?"
He couldn't help but laugh. After spending so long convincing himself it was a coincidence....
Sasaki looked at him curiously, and he explained, "Well, you had just wished we had some picture of her, hadn't you? And now, there it is! Almost as though she was sending us one more reminder and farewell?"
"If the other traces of her vanished, it's entirely possible," she agreed, laughing gently along with him.
"In any case, I was contemplating broaching a particular topic with you, and I wonder if this isn't Haruhi's way of dragging me out of my complacency and taking a more active role," he continued, shaking his head slightly.
Sasaki's eyebrows rose curiously.
"Your surname is 'Sasaki', but you've changed it," he said with a shrug. "Though, I'm guessing you were able to tell what I was thinking."
She tilted her head slightly to one side and nodded. "Somewhat! Something about my name has been on your mind all evening," she allowed. "I had wondered what it was, but decided to wait until you chose to explain. My previous deduction must have been off!"
"Well, seeing your name printed on the photograph finally gave me the impetus I was lacking," he admitted. "Your given name hasn't changed, and 'Yoshiko' suits you, I think." He'd remembered the characters used to write that name easily enough; they were on her business card, and again on the back of the photograph.
Sasaki raised a fingertip to her lower lip thoughtfully. Her name was traditionally written with characters that meant 'luck' or 'joy', but she'd always chosen to use a different character, even as far back as middle school.
"I do still spell it that way," she agreed, looking down at the picture again. "Even then, I always thought that those ideals were in the eye of the beholder. It would be quite easy to fail to achieve those ideals -- so I chose the character for 'sincerity,' because truth is a much more achievable ideal."
"As in, even if you cannot know if you do good or ill, you can be sure that you are being truthful?" he prompted.
"Yes," she agreed. "Though, naturally, I would like to think you do good."
"As subjective as that is, I believe you have," he encouraged. He paused, realizing suddenly that despite his intent to ask her for permission to use her given name, he'd already done it anyway. He sighed ruefully and ran a hand through his hair. "Aah...."
She chuckled softly. "Well, we aren't students anymore," she said, shaking her head gently. "But now, I think I've been remiss myself, and I cannot truly claim that your name does not suit you by being 'too noble'...." He felt his face warm at the praise, as she concluded, "Kyousuke."
And despite his better efforts, nearly everyone chose his nickname over his true name. He thought back to what she had told him at the beach, her comments about being content in that moment, and felt he understood it entirely.
"Well -- I believe we will always at least be good friends; if we wish to analyze fitting names, the characters in my first name and your family name can both be used to write 'loyalty'. Though it's quite clearly possible to have unfitting names, as well, I believe that is an ideal we can both adhere to!" she declared.
"I agree!" he answered without hesitation. "And if we can be careful to avoid miscommunications like the one we shared in high-school...." He trailed off, shrugging.
Turning to look at the picture thoughtfully, Sasaki asked, "Would you be willing to accept this? As a memento? I had forgotten about it for many years, but--"
"No," he said resolutely, giving her a gentle smile. Shaking his head, he explained, "I couldn't accept that; it's a reminder of your own precious memories."
She touched a fingertip to her lip thoughtfully as he carefully closed the yearbook, then tilted his own head at the sound of footsteps on the walkway outside of his door.
She looked toward him curiously, but before either of them could speak, the door was abruptly flung open. "Hi, Kyon-kun--" the cheerful intruder exclaimed, before her eyes widened at the sight of his guest. "Oh! You have a girlfriend!?"
Both at the old nickname, and due to the way she barged in, the man bit back the urge to sigh, and settled for raising one hand to his face. "Perhaps the barrier should be over the door," he mused wryly. "But it's too late now, so why not come in and make yourself at home, Imouto?"
His younger sister's eyes widened before he could reintroduce his guest to her, and she exclaimed, "Sasaki-nee! I always thought you would meet up with my lazy big brother!"
"Yare, yare," the pair at the table sighed in tandem, before they exchanged a startled glance, unable to keep from chuckling at the humor of the situation.
After what they'd discussed, and the mood breaking somewhat, it was over an hour before his sister was satisfied she would get to see Sasaki again, and belatedly realized she had to hurry home to prepare for her college classes the following morning. It was only when that long discussion was finished that something approaching the peaceful atmosphere of earlier returned, but by then it was late.
"Ah, she's still energetic and charming," Sasaki laughed, once Kyon's sister had made her farewells and closed the door with a sly wink.
"My fault for entrusting her with a key," he mused. Glancing at his cat, sprawled on his back with paws in the air, he added, "Though someone has to keep Shamisen fed when I'm not around."
She chuckled, offering, "I was glad for the opportunity to visit with her after all! Ah, but it is late; I should probably head home very soon."
"It's late enough the trains might stop," he agreed, rising to his feet. "Well, I need to get out of the house more, anyway. Since I would also be glad for the opportunity to speak with you just a bit more, would you let me give you a ride back to your place?"
"I suppose I can't refuse!" she exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "For all of my attempts to avoid being in your debt, you seem intent on showing me greater kindness. How will I ever make it up to you?"
He glanced at her worriedly, before recognizing the glint in her eyes, and her teasing. "Well, I don't know that I see it that way," he returned. "Really, I enjoy your company enough I consider us even at worst."
Patting his pockets, it took him only a minute to find his keys and wallet, before leading her outside. "Ah," she breathed. "It's colder than expected. I wonder if we will have a shorter summer, this year?"
"Well, soon we will be in the comfortably warm car," he assured her, locking the door behind him and leading the way swiftly to the waiting vehicle. True enough, it didn't take long for the heater to come to life.
"That's more pleasant," she mused after a moment, once he'd gotten the car on the road. "If I am to keep having these early morning or late night adventures, I should consider getting a heavier coat!"
"I've had to get quite a few for travel," he admitted.
"Well, clothing aside, what was it you had wanted to speak to me about?" she wondered, turning to look at him instead of watching the city lights slide past the car.
He focused on the road before him, puzzling how to best put his thoughts into words. "I'm not entirely certain how to say it," he admitted. "It feels after finding that picture, almost as if something significant were resolved. Even so, I don't like the idea of this somehow being just a note before closing another chapter of my life."
"I hadn't considered it like that," she replied after a thoughtful moment. "But, isn't the choice of ending or continuing ours? If neither of us wish to fall out of contact, then we can simply avoid letting that happen!"
"That's true, but after our middle school reunion...." He trailed off with a shrug.
"Well ... if we hold true to ourselves, that doesn't need to happen," she returned patiently. "Hmm, I recognize that you are uncertain of saying something, but want to anyway -- is that right?"
"Correct as usual," he admitted. "Unfortunately, I am that type of person who truly lacks initiative and is afraid to take risks that could jeopardize things I value. This frequently works against me. Even so ... well, I'd like the chance to visit a few more times before you move for your new job."
She raised a hand to her chin and considered it in silence for a long stretch, as he maneuvered through the light late-hour traffic, until he reached the offramp leading to her district.
"It's difficult to imagine what risks you are afraid of," she mused. "But then--" She cut off suddenly, and he glanced over to see her looking into the distance, a gentle, sympathetic smile on her face. "I see," she said more quietly.
From the offramp, it was only a handful of intersections to her apartment building, and he pulled up to the sidewalk before the entrance. Ah, well, he consoled himself. There would be a next time, wouldn't there?
Turning to face him, she said, "While I think that some might complain about a lack of initiative, or find impulsiveness an appealing trait, I prefer to think of it that you are patient, and in that regard reliable. Certainly, I can understand where your caution might come from, given previous events--
"But we also agreed that the past was the past, even if it does shape us, and who we are."
He nodded, setting the parking brake while waiting for her conclusion.
She undid the seatbelt and put one hand on the door release. "If it would not be unwelcome...." She turned to face him and finished, "I can't enjoy the idea of intruding on moments in your past -- as we discussed, those are the things that made us what we are. But ... I think between the two of us, if we can set our own pace, then maybe we could create and share a positive future?"
"But what about your career?" he wondered. "Moving to Tokyo?"
"That is not the most important thing," she answered without hesitation. "Rather, I think value must be placed not only on the decision, but the inspiration to make that decision. It is a problem, but one that can be solved another day; I am one hundred percent confident that it will be. At least, if I can take the advice you offered earlier and be just a bit more selfish about it, I could do something for myself before I made that change?"
"That sounds positive," he allowed. "What is it that you will be doing for yourself, then?"
Taking a breath as though to brace herself, she leaned forward despite the awkwardness, and managed to give him a hug. He was momentarily stunned, but summoned the wherewithal to return the gesture, appreciating it not because it reminded him of what he'd once had, but as she'd said, because of the new possibilities. She broke away, smiling even more deeply than she had before, and raised a hand to rub at her cheeks.
"As always, your company makes me smile so much my muscles ache from it," she teased. "Thank you, Kyousuke; I look forward to seeing you again."
"Thank you, Yoshiko," he eked out, happy, but slightly dazed.
He didn't quite manage to collect himself enough to say anything else back before she climbed out of the car and closed the door, but he sighed contentedly anyway. She was right, though, and there was no reason to rush; they had plenty of time later.
Releasing the parking brake and pulling away, he drove forward, pondering what the future truly would bring.
Sarsaparilla's notes: Writing this story has been an educational experience on several levels, and if the end result can be enjoyed as an independent work then all the better. Perhaps the most sobering -- and humbling -- aspect of teamwork is to see how a story gains its own, independent existence -- visiting places that the authors hadn't anticipated and covering topics that only appear pertinent in hindsight. On the technical aspects of writing, I must commend Brian's help with the finer points of the English language, as well as his patience in enduring my excruciatingly slow output rate.
Brian's Notes: I initially approached Sars with a very incomplete idea of how this story would work. Thanks to her finding various holes and issues I'd never considered, as well as being willing to tackle Sasaki's share of the scenes, I think this is a story I can be glad to have worked on! I'm a big fan of Sasaki's character anyway, but getting to write a story where they become close like this, while also trying to write Haruhi out in a respectful, considerate manner, was a great joy. :)