Disclaimer: The novel series of Suzumiya Haruhi that began with 'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi' is the creation of Nagaru Tanigawa. No disrespect is intended by the posting of this fanfiction, as I do not own the characters or settings involved. I'm merely dabbling with another set of paints. TVtropes(dot)org is part of the public domain, I think? I actually couldn't find a 'legal' section on the site!
Notes: Count the tropes! Save, collect, trade for swell prizes!
"Chapter Two: Excuses"
"If you can't come up with a legitimate excuse, you have two fall-back options. First, you can take refuge in audacity and say something so outlandish you're dismissed (bonus points if you tell the truth with a straight face). And if that doesn't work, place the burden of justifying your whereabouts on someone else. If neither of these options pan out, run far, run fast."
"Cover" -- Author Unknown
Kyon fidgeted uncomfortably, watching the sparks fly between Haruhi's eyes and his mother's. He wasn't certain what would amuse him more; his mother being terrified of Haruhi, or Haruhi being terrified of his mother. The idea of it being funny faded when he realized that, ultimately, any leftover irritation would spill soundly onto his head. He spared a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that his sister had been sent to her room to avoid witnessing the current confrontation, even though she would inevitably hound him with questions about it later.
Kanae finished her explanation, the story delivered with embarrassing shoujou-romance panache, complete with descriptions of some uber-bishonen action-hero that trailed flowing sakura petals wherever he moved, and a villainous Ryuguu Ryo that literally slobbered over the hapless damsel in distress. She even embarrassedly referenced swooning into Kyon's arms as the bishonen figure that he gathered was supposed to be him carried her to safety, when the villain was left defeated and shamed.
Naturally, Haruhi ate the description of these over-the-top antics up with a spoon, nodding in confirmation to every point, as though she'd actually been there. Just as naturally, Kyon's mother didn't believe it for a second.
"Really," the woman said after a moment, her cool eyes breaking from Haruhi's long enough to touch on Kanae's, then away to Kyon's, where they hardened into twin orbs of pure menace, the like he had only previously seen from Haruhi herself. Deciding it was a woman-only-power that they all accessed at various levels of maturity, he gave it up as a lost cause. He could at least take consolation in the fact that he'd -- somehow -- manage to cow Mori into acting subservient, even if there was no way in hell he'd pull the same off with his mother, Haruhi, or probably his sister.
"I'm a bit disappointed in you, Kyon," she finally said, tuning out the girls that argued on his behalf. "Getting into fights? That is not how you were raised!"
"I also wasn't raised to look the other way when a crime was being committed," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the couch beneath his mother's gaze. "Kanae-chan may have ... embellished ... a little bit, but what she said is generally true; I only did what I did to protect her." He'd taken off the bandage on his face shortly after leaving the school; Yuki had repaired the damage already, and he didn't know if his mother was certain of the severity of the actual combat.
"And you couldn't find a teacher, or someone who could deal with it? You didn't call the police?" his mother countered. "Yes, there is an expectation that as a good young man you'll do the right thing, but you're not some television hero! You are not judge, jury, and executioner! We live in a society of rules and laws, and those are meant to be followed -- aside from which, that boy had a knife! What if you'd been hurt?"
"Yeah, but.... Ryuguu Ryo was expelled," Kyon said, shaking his head. "I was reprimanded. I acted in self-defense, and to protect Kanae-chan. You think it's bad that I could have been hurt? What if Kanae-chan was hurt?"
His mother raised her eyebrows. "You're acting like a delinquent," she judged, which he couldn't help but wince at. Jabbing a finger into his chest and leaning forward to shoot him a look of dire intent, she added, "Here's your ultimatum, Kyon. If you can't clean up your act -- by which I mean 90 or better on every test and assignment from this point forward, then I'm pulling you out of that trouble-making club and sending you straight back to cram school! Sasaki-chan's mother called me a few days ago, you know! So don't think I haven't been keeping my eyes open for such opportunities -- I won't let you throw your chances of a successful career after college away for some fleeting high school flings and juvenile lapses in judgment!"
Kanae blinked, looking stung. Haruhi flinched at the mention of Sasaki, and Kyon could feel her trembling through the couch at the rest of the ultimatum. "That won't happen!" the girl swore, jumping to her feet in agitation. "Kyon and I have been working together on his studying habits! He's going to do much better on tomorrow's test!"
"I'm sure," his mother said dryly, standing up straight and staring down her nose imperiously at Haruhi. "You've already accomplished miracles for him so far."
Kyon took a deep breath, watching Haruhi closely. His mother had previously always maintained a careful distance from his friends, respecting his boundaries. This was an entirely new facet of parental interference.... But not, he admitted, entirely unexpected. And he really didn't want to see Haruhi get into a fight with his mother.
"Mom," he said, pulling her attention from Haruhi's now watering eyes. "Look, I'm not actually in any trouble at school, and if I were, it had nothing to do with Haruhi or the SOS Brigade."
Her eyes locked back on his, while Haruhi continued to tremble. "And?" she asked him. "I'd really like you to be a positive role model for your sister and make a stronger showing that you care about your future!"
"I care a lot more about the future than you think," he couldn't help but grumble. "And I think you're overreacting. If you have to yell, fine, yell -- but don't take it out on my friends. They didn't do anything to deserve this."
To Kyon's surprise, his mother took a half step back, eyebrows raising. "You have your terms," she decided, shaking her head. "If you really care, I think this would be a good time to start studying for tomorrow's test. And I'd better not hear from the school again!" With that, she turned and stalked away, shooting one last dark glance over her shoulder before loudly banging pots and pans around in the kitchen, despite the fact that dinner was hours away yet.
Looking between Kanae and Haruhi, Kyon climbed up from his seat and shook his head. "Haruhi," he said softly, though his gaze was out the window, "I'm in a bit of trouble. Would you be willing to help me study?" It was the last thing he wanted to do ... but it was also the only thing he could think of to calm Haruhi, and more closed space.... What the hell had brought Sasaki's name up again? First Kunikida bringing it up off-hand a few days ago, then his own mother? This didn't seem to be coincidence.
He resolved to ask Yuki about it later.
"Yeah," she answered, her voice a little rough, unable to meet his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he placed one hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn't shy away, leaning ever so slightly into the contact. "U...um. I'll ... wait in your room, if that's okay?"
He nodded at her, then turned to Kanae. The younger girl had her head bowed, her own eyes shadowed. "Do you want to join us?" he asked, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "We can help you with your homework; I'll consider it a much needed review."
"Um! Y...yeah, of course!" Kanae nodded quickly, glancing nervously in the direction of the kitchen. "If I can help Sempai, then absolutely!"
He watched the two girls head up the stairs to his room and braved the kitchen, enduring his mother's steely-eyed judgment while filling a pitcher and collecting a trio of plastic cups. When he got into his room, Haruhi had already set out all of her own notes, and was digging through his schoolbag for his textbooks. Kanae was sitting on the edge of his bed, rifling through her own bag, though the younger girl broke off her work to give him a shaky smile.
"S...so," Haruhi said, shifting her shoulders, "I guess if I can't ... help you out enough, you can probably get ... Yuki-chan to fix things for you, right?"
"Hadn't thought of that," Kyon admitted, setting the pitcher on a tray next to the cups. "Guess I could, but it seems like cheating.... And, anyway, Nagato takes care of things that I can't feasibly learn otherwise. That'd be abusing her power. Weren't you just telling me I was smart, but lazy?"
"Yeah," she admitted with a small, but heartfelt smile. She glanced at the door then closed one eye, concentrating, and to Kyon's surprise, it swung shut. "Is it okay if I practice?" she asked him, a trace of nervousness in her voice.
"Sure," he said, nodding. She had mentioned something about changing her power ... if only she'd thought to let him know how! Haruhi stared intently and levitated a handful of things from his desk drawer -- a ruler, some paper-clips that he'd long ago stuck together into a chain, and a ball of assorted rubber-bands.
"When did you learn to do that?" Kanae asked, intrigued. "I thought you needed Nagato-san's help to use your power?"
"Just the big stuff," Haruhi said, shaking her head, the arrangement before her wobbling unsteadily. "I can move things ... when I get really stressed it helps me calm down."
Kyon pondered, then turned his attention to his homework, glad that Haruhi had given herself a constructive outlet. Certainly, he hadn't gotten any texts or calls from Koizumi or Mori, which seemed to be a good sign.
Kanae occasionally interrupted him to ask him to look over her work, and he usually had to ask Haruhi to help him out ... embarrassingly enough, homework from a year ago was a critical review for him. After playing with her telekinesis long enough for Kyon to finish his homework, she put everything but the paper-clips away, studiously unchaining them one-by-one, then stacking them neatly in the drawer.
"Okay," Kyon declared, glancing at the clock then rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Time for a break! I have limits." He rose and stretched, Kanae bouncing off the edge of his bed and mimicking his movements, sticking her tongue out a bit in concentration.
Haruhi snickered at the first year student, saying, "Kanae-chan, you're going to need a bit more practice before you just launch into martial kata."
Kyon blinked, realizing that Haruhi was right ... and he hadn't even realized he was going through a basic series of martial forms. Learning things subconsciously ... or without the specific memories of learning it was not without certain flaws. It might be for the best that he didn't try and learn his class that way, unless there was no other option.
"I know," Kanae admitted, giggling. "But maybe I should ask Nagato-san to learn martial arts, too? Then I could defend myself better, and Sempai wouldn't have gotten in trouble...."
"Ryuguu was a pretty big guy," Kyon disagreed, shaking his head. "Martial arts is mostly about subtlety over force, but he had a knife, too; he could have hurt you pretty badly if you fought seriously. If you really want, you can probably ask Nagato later, but I thought you needed more practice sliding?"
She ducked her head, giggling. "That's true! I guess I'll have to depend on Sempai for now...."
"That's what we're here for," he assured her.
Haruhi poured herself a glass of water as Kanae settled back to the bed and Kyon finished the final form of the kata he had started, sinking to sit before the study materials again. Maybe he should ask Haruhi to make him a more avid studier, he thought with a sigh. "Hey, Kyon," she said, holding the cup by her face, peering intently into its depths.
"Yeah?" he asked, flipping through his own poorly written and generally incomplete notes.
"I'm sorry about this...."
"It's not your fault," he said, shrugging as he reached the end of his notes, and the beginning of Haruhi's. "And, anyway, while my mom doesn't usually get mad at me, I haven't gotten into a fight at school since...." He paused thinking back. "I don't think ever, actually. So, I can kind of see where she's coming from."
"Y...yeah, but if this makes you quit the brigade--"
"Haruhi," he said sternly, looking up from her notes, "if I won't let aliens, enemy organizations, or that smirking bastard let me get split off from the brigade, do you really think my mother is going to stop me? It's no good seeing her mad at me, but she'll get over it as long as I come through on getting my test scores up. And even if I do fail, well.... I don't think it's any good relying on Nagato or Asahina-san to fix things, but unless I somehow get expelled from school," and that he would cheat to fix, if he had to, "then it's not happening. Despite everything, my record with the school should be decent. I have bad grades, and I got into one fight that everyone acknowledges wasn't my fault. It's not the end of the world, is it?"
Haruhi nodded, setting her cup on the tray. "I just don't like it when things entirely outside of my control can cause problems I can't fix ... even though they'll be problems for me," she said. Then she shook her head. "That sounds really selfish, doesn't it?"
"Well," he mused, as Kanae put away her homework, "that may be true.... But when you're talking about wanting a friend to do well so you can be together, then while it's a bit selfish, it's also because you care about your friend, isn't it?"
Haruhi shifted her shoulders and looked away, her fingertips fidgeting nervously. "I guess," she allowed.
"Suzumiya-san," Kanae began uncertainly, "are you unhappy to be friends with Kyon?"
"W...what?! Of course not!" Haruhi yelped, staring at the younger girl as though she had sprouted an extra head. "Why would you think that!?"
"Y...you just seemed nervous," Kanae said, flinching back. "Um, I'm sorry!"
"M...maybe I'm a little ... unused to having ... friends," Haruhi admitted, pouting at the floor. "I ... kind of scared people away for a while.... So I got used to having to do my own thing, and not caring about other people. And ... maybe that's not the best way to look at the world."
"Is that so?" Kyon asked, raising an eyebrow. "I always thought you were at your strongest when you were doing things for others."
"Yeah?" Haruhi asked, brightening. "Like when?"
"Like when you and Nagato filled in for the band members at the cultural festival," he suggested. "Or the time that you insisted I visit Nagato because you thought she said my name. Maybe the time that you helped Sakanaka-san out with her dog? What about the time you insisted that Nagato meet the boy who thought he was in love with her, because you said everyone deserved a chance?"
"Yeah," Haruhi agreed, chuckling. "I guess you're right! Oh, man, that letter was so pathetic, too! I kind of felt for the guy, though...."
"I didn't," Kyon retorted. "When he called to tell me how much he was in love, his explanation was so bad I thought he was trying to confess to me!"
"I didn't hear that story!" Kanae said, giggling herself, a tiny blush coming to her cheeks. "Ooh, Sempai with another boy! Such a naughty thought!" Her eyes turned distant and her blush deepened. "Hum, Sempai and Koizumi-san...."
"Stop that train of thought right there," Kyon insisted, holding one hand out and grimacing. "I invoke my vice commander powers to revoke your speaking privileges! Not funny, Kanae-chan!"
The girl giggled again, grabbing Kyon's pillow and hiding her face behind it, trying to stifle her laughter. "Alright," Haruhi said decisively, "enough break time! Kanae-chan, help me cut up some paper to make flashcards. Kyon, get us-- I mean, could you get us some more water?"
"No problem," he agreed, giving Haruhi a smile before taking up the empty pitcher and steeling himself to face his mother's ire once more.
A grueling flashcard session was eventually followed by a tense, uncomfortable dinner. Afterward, Kyon gleefully escaped the house on the excuse of walking the girls to the train station, chased by the promise of talking with his father once the man came home.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful today, Sempai," Kanae said before stepping through the turnstile to board her train, ducking her head. "But thank you for being my friend. And thank you, too, Suzumiya-san! It makes me very happy to have found this world!"
Haruhi hesitated until the smaller girl was out of sight, then turned to face Kyon. "Um," she began, uncertainly, before faltering. He could sense that she wanted to say something, but was unable to force it out. "W...well, come to school early tomorrow.... If your mother is upset, I'll bring you something so you can eat properly, and we'll work on all the flashcards you had trouble with, okay?"
"Absolutely," he agreed, nodding. He watched her walk away, unsettled when his cell-phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, surprised to see he had a voice-mail ... but no missed calls. Confused, he pressed the button to retrieve it as he strolled back home, his steps freezing when a very familiar voice spoke:
"Call Mori-san, tell her to meet you now, then turn off the phone. Also, 'hi' from tomorrow."
"Damn it, future-me," he growled, ignoring the stares the nearest passers-by gave him and searching quickly for Koizumi's number. The esper picked up after two rings, attentive as always.
"Hello again, Kyon-kun," he answered cheerfully. "What else can I do for you today?"
"Get Mori-san to call me," he snapped. "It's urgent."
Without waiting for a response, he hung up, staring at the phone balefully. Less than a minute later it rang, an unfamiliar number displaying on the screen. He answered without hesitation, "Mori-san?"
"Sir?" the woman asked him cautiously.
Before she could continue, he said, "I need you to meet with me right now -- I'm at Kitaguchi station."
"Understood, Sir," she replied, disconnecting. Guessing that his future self needed to use the phone, he grumbled and turned it off.
Done for the moment, he went to a bench before the station and waited.
Unsurprisingly, Arakawa's familiar black taxi pulled up within five minutes, Mori opening the door and gesturing him in. He climbed in next to the woman, irritated to realize that thanks to Haruhi and Kanae coming home with him, he hadn't even had time to change out of his uniform. This was becoming a bizarre habit.
"Thank you for responding to the situation so quickly," she said, breaking the silence as Arakawa accelerated the vehicle into the night.
"Can I get a summary of what you know so far?" he asked, staring fixedly out the window, away from Mori. Why would his future self continually shove him into situations blind like this? Well, it wasn't that far off from his total lack of guidance to himself the week that Mikuru had been kidnapped ... though, with his new skills and connections, he should be able to prevent that from happening again.
He caught the motion of her nod in the reflection off the window. "Currently, as you have anticipated, today was much better than this morning. A few of our espers noted a sensation of increased tension earlier today, and it hasn't died down completely, but no closed space has actually formed."
He nodded at that. "Glad that's working," he allowed. "But then, I've always thought Haruhi had the capability to be more reasonable than she usually chose to be."
"You are absolutely the expert in that regard, Sir," Mori replied. "We've got assigned watchers following her as per standard; she shouldn't be in any danger. The same for Michikyuu-san, now. Ah, but I'm side-tracking. While Tsuruya-san is affiliated with our Organization, her family has a strict policy of non-interference, which we respectfully work both ways -- they don't mind us, and we don't mind them.
"I was a bit hesitant to infringe on that, but the Tamaru brothers are watching her, as you insisted," she continued. "You're positive that it was safe to pull them from surveillance on Asahina-san?"
"I've got someone on that," he answered, making a mental note to kick his future self. Obviously, his future self was getting to enjoy time with Mikuru, while he was pitching himself headlong into another act of delinquency. "What's Tsuruya-kun up to right now?"
"Ah ... well ... it doesn't look good," Mori said glumly. "This could seriously damage relations between ourselves and her family if it comes out, so ... moving forward with our strict policy of letting you handle your own problems, we'd like to remain as uninvolved as possible."
"What doesn't look good?" Kyon asked, realizing they were heading straight into the heart of Nishinomiya's shadier low-rent and high-crime district.
"She's visiting someone we don't have files on. Probably a Yakuza or just some shady character ... most likely not anyone of interest to our Organization or the others. If you don't mind me saying so, while it seems a bit suspicious, there's no real indicator that this is something she's unfamiliar with. I don't know her personal habits, but it's entirely possible she's simply collecting something of personal interest to herself."
"While that's possible, right now Tsuruya-kun is a person of interest to the brigade," Kyon countered, tearing his eyes from the window to give Mori his most stern look. She met it without flinching, only pursing her lips slightly. "Specifically, she and I are involved in an investigation concerning something that ... unless I miss my mark ... even the entity itself is unaware of. I wouldn't expect Asahina-san to know, but I'm surprised you seem unaware."
"What?" Mori asked, taken aback. "What are you insinuating? Is this about that scuffle you got involved with at school this morning?"
"And yesterday," he agreed.
"No, that's not possible," she objected, shaking her head. "We watched you all day; you didn't leave the house after we dropped you off."
"Use a bit of imagination."
Mori frowned, squinting at him. "You're working for the time travelers?" she asked, her voice turning slightly bitter.
"They work for me," he clarified.
She stared at him doubtfully, then gave a slow nod. "Okay," she allowed. "That may account for some things. Then, what's this investigation you're undertaking? If it's something even the entity is unaware of--"
"Classified," he told her with a shake of his head. "Sorry. You'll get disclosure when the investigation is complete. Koizumi can give you a full report."
"Alright," she allowed again, frowning as Arakawa stopped the cab. "From here," she said, pointing, "one block that way, take the alley to the right. On the left side of the alley there's a steel door with a viewing portal -- the kind with a steel plate across it. The secret knock goes like this." She demonstrated, tapping one fingertip against the back of Arakawa's headrest. "I'm afraid that's all the information I can offer."
"Good enough," he decided, climbing out of the car. "I may end up leaving with Tsuruya-kun; if you're trying to keep her from seeing you, I won't really be able to notify you."
Mori smiled, a tiny hint of that menacing smile she sometimes offered returning with a sharp gleam. "I've got my eyes on you," she assured him.
He nodded again, then jogged down the street, nervously ducking into the alley that Mori had indicated before freezing, nearly stumbling over a trash bag as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. Moving more carefully forward, he studied the walls of the buildings until he found the steel door and pounded one fist on it, following the pattern that Mori had given him.
Seconds later, the eye-level steel plate snapped back, revealing a furrowed brow and a pair of angry eyes. "What?" a surly voice asked him, before taking in his uniform. "Oh, local color, eh? You here to buy, or sell?"
"Buy," he answered, shifting his shoulders.
"Alright." The plate slammed back into place and then Kyon heard the sounds of several bolts being thrown before the steel door ponderously opened inward. The man behind the door was a bit shorter than him, but stocky, with the build of a practiced fighter and numerous small scars across his face. He was wearing a brightly colored cherry-red suit with a lime green tie and a loud blue shirt -- a screaming advertisement of his Yakuza status. "In," he grunted, gesturing Kyon forward with one meaty paw.
Kyon nodded and stepped in before the short brute laboriously shoved the door shut behind him. The room was square and dimly lit, a single other doorway visible on the opposite side of the room. "It's okay if I...?" Kyon began, gesturing at the doorway.
"Go," Brute replied with another sour grunt. "Watanabe-san is with some other customers, so watch your mouth."
Nodding absently, Kyon stepped through the doorway, entering a long, rectangular room. The outer perimeter was completely lined with boxes of varying sizes, all the way up to the ceiling. At the far end of the rectangular space was a makeshift desk made out of sturdier boxes and a length of board. Computer equipment had been spread haphazardly around, most notably a row of four monitors, which lit the back wall with a flickering series of glowing lights, mostly a fleshy pink tone and soft blue.
Five other people were in the room with him. He spotted Tsuruya first, standing not far from himself on one edge of a shabby red carpet, wearing a skirt and blouse -- not her uniform or the kimono he had previously seen her in. Beyond her was a boy that it took Kyon a minute to place -- Manabe, from Kanae's class, slightly unfamiliar in casual clothes, but his blond hair stuck out. Manabe was bowing nervously to the man behind the desk, a thirtyish looking Yakuza in proud color, much more understated white and powder blue. Deducing that he must be Watanabe, Kyon mentally labeled the other two yakuza thugs as Scar, for the giant jagged silver streak that ran vertically across his face and through one eye, and Hat, for the fedora he angled low over his eyes.
Manabe rose from his bow and said, his voice breaking very slightly, "We apologize again for the issue with Ryuguu-san, Watanabe-san. But, as we have said ... his issues are not our issues, and he was merely a middle-man. Production has not been affected in the slightest, as you can see from the latest batch...."
"The money we make from distributing these isn't bad," Watanabe allowed, his eyes flicking across the monitors. "However, what you don't understand is that the money is also trivial compared to our proper businesses. It is, at best, a semi-lucrative sideline. We are businessmen, and we act professionally."
Watanabe pulled a cigar from a box on the desk. Scar wordlessly produced a clipper from a pocket and snipped one end, and Hat wordlessly produced a lighter, which Watanabe used to ignite the tip. After a few thoughtful puffs, Watanabe's eyes drifted across the room, lingering briefly on Kyon, then on Tsuruya, before fixing on Manabe again. "I understand that you consider yourselves aspiring businessmen, and I will admit ... production quality is high. Delivery is generally very prompt. You do your jobs well, all things considered. However, our primary issue is not the product."
He took a longer draw and stared into Manabe's face. "Our issue is that we do not like to be ... toyed with. Ryuguu was under the impression that for all his toadying and glorified delivery-boy status, he mattered to us. Sadly, he did not. He is as irrelevant as you might be. And Ryuguu thinks that we are, in some way, interested in avenging him. We are not. Ultimately, we do not care.
"However.... I have it on reasonable authority that the ones we are looking for.... That is, the people who gave Ryuguu a much needed lesson in humility ... are the ones we are seeking. In the spirit of preserving a relationship that has yet to sour, I will offer you the standard rate for your product. Just keep in mind, there might be a ... bonus ... if you can find the people who caused us so much grief last Sunday."
Kyon chewed his lip, putting the Yakuza speech together. Ryuguu thought he was an associate, but wasn't? That made sense.... The Yakuza wanted revenge for what happened to them on Sunday? Well, that was undoubtedly going to be problematic, and inevitably tied to the 'investigation' that he and Tsuruya were now wrapped up in. "Uh-oh," Tsuruya said, very softly, backing up slowly, almost bumping into Kyon before he put a hand out to catch her shoulder.
She spun in alarm, eyes widening, then relaxed instantly with a wide grin when she recognized him. The sudden motion caught Watanabe's attention, and Manabe followed his glance, gasping and pointing. "It's them!" he yelled. "Tsuruya and that delinquent! They're the ones who beat up Ryuguu-san -- twice!"
Tsuruya winced, briefly pressing against Kyon and shoving something into his hand as she turned to face the four in the room. Watanabe rose to his feet, grinning around his cigar. "How convenient," he said in a smooth voice, eyes narrowing sharply. "Get them!" he roared, pointing at the pair menacingly.
Tsuruya sprang a step to Kyon's left, leaving him to turn and face the doorway he had walked through. Brute charged him with a guttural howl, and he sidestepped with a trip, knocking the big guy down and pivoting to face him again. No way the knockdown would put him out, but-- The crackling discharge of a stun gun directly into the big man's spine drew his attention to Tsuruya, where she rose, stepping carefully back from the twitching figure, her weapon raised in a defensive position.
After glancing at his own hand, Kyon recognized a collapsible baton -- how had Tsuruya gotten such things? Dismissing that, he gave it a good shake, relieved when it sprang open to its full length just as Hat reached him, and Scar windmilled his arms and leaped frantically backward out of Tsuruya's range. Hat screamed something unintelligible and started with a maneuver that part of Kyon's subliminal training recognized as a double-feint; he side-stepped away from Brute's prone form, cracking his baton sharply across Hat's knuckles when they were extended from the punch.
Hat yelped and shook his now-bleeding hand. Kyon sidestepped the next punch from Hat, right into an axe-kick from Watanabe. He felt his collar bone strain under the impact as he was brutally slammed to the floor, staring up at Watanabe's grinning face and jarring his head when he landed. "Ya got spunk, kid," the Yakuza said, "but you chose the wrong people to fu--"
Kyon rolled desperately to one side, losing the baton and narrowly evading a kick to his head. After hitting the stack of boxes, he hastily righted himself and glanced at Tsuruya. Scar was slowly backing her into a corner, using his belt as a whip to try and disarm the girl. Manabe stood in front of the desk and stared, gaping.
Taking mental inventory, Kyon decided to switch to the offensive. Hat and Watanabe were coordinated, experienced fighters. He had the equivalent of a few years of non-specific martial arts training, and none of the physical conditioning to back it up. Hat should logically be weakened, so was the obvious target. Turning slightly toward Hat, Kyon slipped backward and jerked himself toward Watanabe with an elbow-slam to the Yakuza's solar-plexus, allowing the momentum from the attack to carry into his fist, which snapped upward and smashed the man's nose, causing another one of those unfortunately familiar crunches.
Watanabe screeched and flailed, the hot ash of his cigar falling down the sleeve of Kyon's uniform as the man tripped back and crashed to the floor. Even though Kyon was facing Hat, he was overextended and couldn't bring a fist into guard position quickly enough. Hat's knuckles may have been bloodied on one hand, but he landed a kick just over Kyon's eye, sending the boy flying back to land atop the injured Yakuza boss. Grunting in pain, Kyon felt Watanabe's arms wrap around him, holding him prone as Hat gathered a loose mop handle from the floor and raised it in a giant over-hand swing, his eyes still filled with dizzied glowing sparks.
Relying on the Yakuza boss's grip, Kyon managed to force a roll in time to use Watanabe as a shield. The blow caused Watanabe to cry out in pain and release Kyon to roll to his feet again, though this time Kyon immediately lashed forward and kicked Watanabe in the ribs. As the boss curled up around his kicked side, Kyon elbow-dropped below another one of Hat's kicks, driving all of his attack power into Watanabe's kidney.
Watanabe retched loudly and twitched. Kyon rolled away, dazedly wondering how much of the fight he was going to spend on the floor. As he righted himself again, he glared with his good left eye. The kick from Hat had cut open his eyebrow, and blood was filling his right eye. Hat's eyes flicked to Watanabe, on the floor, then to Kyon. Kyon tensed to charge, just as Tsuruya cried out in pain.
Not giving himself time to think about it, the second Hat turned to glance at the girl, Kyon leaped forward with a flying kick to Hat's left shoulder, landing on the floor yet again and executing a prone-trip, bringing Hat crashing to the ground at his side. With one hand injured and the other shoulder too weakened from the flying kick, Hat collapsed with a scream. Kyon rolled -- yet again -- away from the corner where Tsuruya and Scar would be, then kicked Hat's prone form in the chest, following it up with a knee-drop to the Yakuza's midsection. He shakily climbed to his feet to see that Tsuruya was bleeding from a deep welt on one wrist, but Scar was prone, frothing at the mouth with her stun gun pressed into his gut and chattering with discharge.
He spun on Manabe before the first year student could think to involve himself and stalked forward, stopping outside of striking range of the smaller boy. "You want to talk, or are you next?" he spat. Kyon despaired inwardly; he must have bitten his cheek when he was kicked or fell at some point. His mouth was literally full of blood, and his spittle flecked Manabe's face and clothes. His own blood was dripping across his blazer, and the cigar had probably singed it as well. The smell was undoubtedly going to linger....
Sharpening his one good eye on the boy, he felt more than saw Tsuruya stepping to his right side, her stun gun still chattering as she joined him in staring. "You okay?" he asked, turning slightly toward her, but still keeping Manabe in his field of vision.
The boy whimpered, as Tsuruya nodded. "Good enough to get some answers from this guy. Okay, Satoshi-chan, make it quick-like." Tsuruya chuckled, adding, "We're on a schedule."
Manabe worked his jaw quickly and finally blurted out, "I'm a nobody! I'm just a grunt! P...please don't kill me!" The boy actually dropped to his knees, eyes filling with tears. "I'm too beautiful to die!"
"Oh, gods," Kyon groaned, fishing his handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against his split eyebrow. The wound was too fresh to be tender, only a combination of half-numb and pins-and-needles tingling. "Tsuruya-kun, he's going to be useless -- put him out of my misery, won't you?"
"You got it!" she said cheerfully, raising the stun gun and flashing a Mori-quality smile at Manabe.
"I'll tell you anything!" Manabe wailed, throwing himself to the floor and groveling. "Anything you want to know!"
"The truth," Kyon growled, walking around the desks and checking the Yakuza computer.
An amateurishly assembled rig, he assessed, lower quality than anything he'd seen in the computer research society. After collapsing into the single rickety chair, he spent a few moments checking it out to make certain, and was pleased to determine that there was no modem or internet connection. A shoe box on the desk not far from the cigar box was stuffed with mini-discs, SD cards, and countless post-it notes.
"I'm just following orders! I do first years, and, um, my seniors take care of the rest!"
"Tsuruya-kun, can I borrow the stun gun?" Kyon asked. "You can work this chump over with the baton for answers."
"Good thinking!" she cheered, handing the weapon over after collecting the baton and tapping it against one palm, eyes fixed on Manabe.
"Y...Yamane-san handles the second years," Manabe continued, on the verge of tears. "Daimonji-san is in charge of third years! W...we just wanted to make some money!"
Kyon set every drive but the primary to quick format waited until they were done, then opened the system while it was still running, and shielding his good eye, fried the entire array with the stun gun. The resultant explosion of sparks caused Manabe to shriek in alarm and sob again.
"I'll give you the names of all the first year collectors!" the blond boy wept. "That's all I know! Honest!"
For good measure, Kyon then tore the drives from the system and flung them to the floor hard enough to crack the casings, each crash causing Manabe to devolve further into a whimpering mound. Tsuruya tapped him lightly on the back of the head with the baton and collected the names he shakily quoted, writing them on a notepad she had kept in one pocket.
"Alright," Tsuruya decided, once Kyon had declared the computer system to be dead, and Manabe had finished his litany of names, "have a nice nap, Satoshi-chan!"
"W...what?" the boy managed, before Tsuruya whipped the baton sideways across the top of his head, and his eyes crossed as he collapsed to the floor.
"Hey, hey, Kyon-kun," Tsuruya said, quickly running to him and embracing him again. "You okay? I owe you mega big time! I got in ways over my head! Dunno what I'd do if you hadn't shown up!"
"Let's just get out of here," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm not feeling so hot at the moment."
"Okies! You want to go home? Hospital?" She partially broke from the embrace, pulling his right arm across the back of her neck and leaving her left arm around his back to help him walk.
"Oh, hells, I can't go home like this," he said in dismay. "My mom's already flipping out over the idea of me being a delinquent! The hospital...." His head hurt, and he felt himself slipping away by the minute. Delayed shock reaction? Blood loss? Adrenaline rush fading? There was something about a hospital, but he couldn't use his phone to call Mori; he had turned it off for an important reason that was slipping from his grasp. "No hospital," he managed.
"Gotcha covered!" she said cheerfully, setting him down on a stool near the doorway as she fought the numerous bolts and locks, then struggled to open the heavy portal. After resuming her position at his side, helping guide him down the dark alley, she pulled her phone from one pocket and held down a single button until someone answered. "Car!" she barked into the handheld. "Now! I want a medical kit -- actually, it may take stitches -- bring Sakura-sensei in. I want him ready by the time we get home!"
She hung up the phone without waiting for response, and Kyon could only blink in surprise when a limousine pulled to a stop outside the alley, a driver quickly climbing out and opening the door for them. Kyon gratefully collapsed into the back seat, only grunting when Tsuruya climbed in next to him and pulled out a first aid-kit. Confident that everything else would be taken care of, he let himself recede into comforting darkness as she pulled his head into her lap and began dabbing something on his eyebrow.
When his eyes tried lazily to open, only one of them did. A wad of cloth or something was pressing on his right eye, and he was laying on his back, squinting upward into lights that were too bright. Tsuruya was peering down at him in concern, while an unfamiliar middle-aged man with rolled up sleeves and surgical gloves did ... something to his face involving a needle and thread. He let his eye close again, though he remained conscious.
Most of his face was reassuringly numb, but he felt Tsuruya's warm hands clasped together around his left hand. "There," the man's voice said, slightly muffled by his surgical mask. "Are you still with us, Kyon-dono?"
"Done?" he mumbled back.
"Absolutely, Kyon-dono," the man assured him.
He opened his eyes again, surprised to find that his right eye opened, but was too swollen to open completely. He vaguely recognized the interior of Tsuruya's house, but wasn't sure which room he was in. Someone had laid a futon out for him and covered it with a thick cloth to prevent his blood from staining the mattress. The girl released his hand and helped him sit up.
"Kyon-kun?" she asked him, her voice sounding surprisingly shy. "You okay?"
"I've been better," he allowed with a wry smirk. Turning to the surgeon, who was washing his hands carefully in a basin and had pulled down his mask, he added, "Thank you, Sensei. Thank you as well, Tsuruya-kun."
"This one was my fault," Tsuruya said, nodding firmly. "If it's my fault, it's my responsibility! Oh, let me introduce you; this is Sakura-sensei, our family surgeon."
Sakura gave a wry grin of his own and bowed, drying his hands on a towel. "I can't give you much medicine, Kyon-dono, but when you're ready tonight, we'll give you something to help you sleep," he said. "In the meantime, you shouldn't need antibiotics, and I can't get those without a prescription, so it's going to be very important to change the dressing on that wound regularly and keep it clean. Also, for today and tomorrow, keep an icepack on the injury whenever possible." He produced a strange, rounded strip of something like a bandage, adding, "There are a few of these in the freezer; the staff can help you get one before you sleep."
"Ah ... thanks," Kyon managed. He felt a little bad ... Tsuruya was going so far out of her way, when he could just ask Yuki to fix it in the morning. "Um! Shoot, my mom's going to flip out--"
"No worries!" Tsuruya said with a wide grin. "I was worried for you, too, but when you fell asleep in the car, I got a phone call from your uncle Kintaro! He sounds just like you! I do wonder how he got my number.... But he said he was borrowing your room tonight and was going to talk to your mother, so you should stay here and rest! I think he tried calling you, too, because he said to check your voice mail."
"Oh," he said. What uncle Kintaro? His uncle was named Keiichi. "Oh, good."
"Now, come on," she instructed, wrapping the cooled compress around his head, adjusting it to cover his right eyebrow. "We're going to take a bath and get some sleeps, okies?"
"Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "You go first; I'd better check my voice mail."
Sakura rose from packing away his medical equipment and bowed deeply to the pair of them. "Take care, Kyon-dono, Tsuruya-san," he said.
Kyon nodded tiredly, while Tsuruya waved to a maid and climbed to her feet. "I'm headed to the bath," the girl told her maid, "when Kyon-kun is ready, go ahead and send him in, then get our beds ready."
"Understood," the servant replied, bowing deeply.
Shaking his head, Kyon turned his phone back on, unsurprised to see another voice mail. He retrieved it, hearing his future self tell him, with a faintly audible tinge of amusement: "It seems strange, but it's the best thing to do. Take a bath, rest well, do whatever Tsuruya-kun asks. Whatever Tsuruya-kun asks. You can leave the phone on now."
Rolling his eyes, he tiredly climbed to his feet, approaching the maid with short steps. His arms and back were bruised from all of his falling and rolling, his knuckles were sore, his right ankle was protesting, and whatever anesthetic the doctor had used was starting to fade. The stitched up cut was beginning to fiercely sting, even with the cooling pack stuck to his head, and the purpling bruise over his collar bone was starting to promise aching neck muscles in the coming days.
"Kyon-dono," the maid murmured, rising from her kneeling position, though her eyes were still fixed on the floor. "The head of the Tsuruya family sends his personal regards and thanks for watching over his chosen heir. All of us are quite grateful for your effort so far, especially Kasai-san."
"I'm just doing ... what anyone would do," he said, realizing how lame it was only after the words left his mouth. Sure, anyone who had casual access to instant training, time travel, and a covert organization that they had inadvertently cowed into doing their bidding would do the same.
Even with her face oriented toward the floor, he could see the maid's mouth quirk into a smile. "Even though others may, you have," the maid insisted. "He further requests that you continue to watch over her until she completes her trials, and wishes to know what reward you desire in exchange for your services."
"O...of course," he agreed. "But, reward? That's.... No, thanks. I don't need much, and right now, Tsuruya-kun's already made sure that I got medical attention when I needed it, and a place to hide from my mother while she's angry." He bit his tongue, wondering if his words came more easily as a side-effect of the fading anesthetic. "Er.... Well, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not helping Tsuruya-kun for a reward."
The maid's smile widened. "Thank you," she said, raising her face and peering cautiously at him. "Then, if I may impose a small, personal request?"
"As long as it doesn't go against brigade policy."
"Please take good care of Haruka-chan," she whispered, her face coloring slightly.
"Of course," he agreed, wondering why she needed to ask him twice. "I don't think many people would want to see her unhappy."
The maid bowed low again, then gestured him to follow. "This way to the baths," she said quietly. "Leave your clothes in the changing room. We'll make sure they're clean by morning."
"Okay," he agreed, as she opened the changing room door for him and bowed yet again. He wondered briefly how quickly Tsuruya had washed ... she'd gotten cut on her wrist, too, but hopefully not very badly. The surgeon had probably taken care of her first; he'd have to ask her about it later, he decided, shutting the door on the maid and quickly stripping. After grabbing a modesty towel and wrapping it around himself, he slid open the door and stepped into the bathing area, freezing when he saw Tsuruya there, facing away from him.
He couldn't help but stare as the girl leaned forward and gathered up a rinse basin, upending it over her head with a cry of, "Kya~! Cold!"
After she ran her fingers through her hair, he turned around, only able to make a small choking noise as the maid stepped into the changing room and nodded at him with a knowing wink, taking his clothes away before she vanished.
"Ah! Kyon-kun!" Tsuruya chirped, turning around to face him. For a moment, he was saddened to see she had wrapped a towel around herself, made invisible previously behind the wide fan of her dark hair. Then he mentally slapped himself -- what was he thinking?! If something like that got back to Haruhi.... "Help me scrub my back, then I'll get yours, okay?" She held out her right arm and stuck out her tongue. "I can't reach some spots because of this." He noticed the bandage on her wrist and gave a weak nod.
"R...right," he said, remembering his voice mail from the future. Taking a bath with Tsuruya ... well, if his future self insisted it had to be done, obviously it was for the sake of the world! No use fighting it.
She pulled her hair over one shoulder and let her towel drop to the bathing area floor, where it pooled around her. Yep, the future of the world was at stake if he didn't do as his future self insisted. Who was he to cause a paradox? He found a washcloth and lathered it up, scrubbing her back from the top down, barely able to remember one critical question:
"Tsuruya-kun, could I have your phone number? You should have mine, too -- that way you can call me ahead of time instead of getting into situations like today."
She giggled, ducking her head slightly. "Probably a good idea," she agreed. "Still, I do wonder how your uncle Kintaro got my number?"
"Er ... he probably called Asahina-san," Kyon answered, feeling a bit guilty about being untruthful, but mostly distracted by the smooth skin of Tsuruya's back as he scrubbed.
"That makes sense!" She abruptly moved away from him, before turning around and giving him an unabashed eyeful. "Okay, now I'll scrub your back!"
He felt suddenly that he was in danger of significantly more blood loss than from his just-stitched eyebrow.