The Wavering of Haruhi Suzumiya (12 page)

With a voice like a tour guide, Koizumi showed us the way. I had less and less to say.

They sure seemed to be having fun—Koizumi and Haruhi, and maybe Asahina too.

As we walked, Koizumi casually drew alongside me and whispered significantly into my ear.

“You certainly do have some mysterious friends.”

I waited for him to say more, but he only smiled and went back to his role as tour guide.

Nakagawa was mysterious? Maybe. One thing was certain—no ordinary person would take one look at Nagato and be instantly struck down with love.

As we made our way to the bus station, something felt amiss about it all.

I had a bad feeling about this.

After half an hour of bouncing along on a private bus, it was a few minutes’ walk from the bus stop to Nakagawa’s school. When we got there, the game had already started.

Thanks to my oversleeping, we’d missed two earlier buses, and it was now fifteen minutes past the start time Nakagawa had given me.

It didn’t seem like we could enter the school grounds, so we walked alongside it until coming to a field enclosed by a chain-link fence, which was where the football scrimmage was being held.

“Wow, it’s such a big field.”

Asahina gave voice to her wonder, and I had to nod. Unlike North High’s grounds, dug forcibly out of the hillside, the flat, expansive field of this private boys’ school spoke of money. The place where we were standing was roughly one floor higher than the level of the field, which gave us an excellent view. Aside from us five, there seemed to be a few old guys passing by and some girls who seemed to be groupies, cheering on the two private schools’ teams.

The sound of colliding uniforms and helmets in blue and white reached our ears, and we five lined up in an empty spot to watch.

Nagato was silent and betrayed no reaction.

Even now.

I had only a casual understanding of the rules of football. After our mostly effortless victory in the baseball tournament, Haruhi had brought in forms for participation in the football and soccer tournaments. We wound up not participating in either (after much hassle), but just in case, I’d gone and looked up the basics. It seemed simple but was actually quite deep—not impossibly so, but hardly something a club like ours could just pick up and do, I could tell.

Watching from here, I could tell that my decision had been a correct one.

The offense carried an oblong ball similar to a rugby ball and tried to advance down the field by passing and running with it, while the defense tried to stop that advance by chasing down the guy with the ball, their protective gear clattering loudly whenever they collided with one another.

It definitely felt like an American sport.

“Huh.”

Haruhi clung to the chain-link fence and watched the clump of players.

“So which one is Nakagawa?”

“Number eighty-two on the white team.”

I explained according to what Nakagawa had told me the previous day. Nakagawa was a tight end, which meant he was at the edge of the offensive line, responsible for both blocking and catching passes. Nakagawa was quick despite his bulk, so it was the perfect spot for him.

“Wait—why are the players trading places? They look the same.”

“There are offensive players and defensive players. Nakagawa’s on offense.”

“Since everybody’s wearing helmets, I’m sure they’re allowed to head-butt, but how far does it go? Only judo throws? Or does anything go?”

“None of that. No head-butting either,” I said.

“Huh.”

Haruhi gazed at the field intently. North High didn’t have a football team, but if it did, there was no question she’d try to get on and wreak havoc. And with her speed and blind energy, she might even have been a worthwhile player.

“It sure is an exciting sport! Perfect for winter.”

I listened to Haruhi’s commentary and took a look at Nagato, who was following the ball, evidently not thinking about anything in particular.

The five of us stood there and watched private school boys smash into one another for a while.

“Um, would anyone like some tea?”

Asahina took a thermos and some paper cups out of her bag.

“I thought it would be cold, so I brought something warm to drink.”

The smiling Asahina might as well have been an angel. I thankfully accepted her tea. I had only been getting colder as we stood out there beneath the chilly sky, watching the game.

There we watched the two teams play football, sipping Asahina’s delicious hand-brewed tea.

The second quarter came to a desultory end as we sat there and watched; it was now halftime. The white uniforms of Nakagawa and his teammates coalesced at the opposite end of the field from us, where a tough-looking older guy started chewing them out. It was hard to make out faces from that distance, but I did catch occasional glimpses of jersey number eighty-two.

As for the game, it wasn’t anything special. There were no long, showy passes or thirty-yard runs; each team just kept creeping
along with first downs, and the score represented only the handful of field goals they’d managed; there hadn’t been any touch-downs. That might have meant they were evenly matched and that the defenses were both working hard.

However, I do know a certain someone who hates it when things get boring, and her name is Haruhi Suzumiya.

“This isn’t much fun at all,” she said.

Haruhi stomped her feet as she frowned. She wasn’t the only one whose breath was coming out white either.

“At least the players get to run around.” Haruhi wrapped her arms around herself. “But we’re just standing here getting cold. Is there a café around here somewhere?”

The picnic mood seemed to have been blown away by the chilly winter wind. Asahina did not have an infinite amount of tea, and we’d long since run out. And even when we’d had it, the last half had gone cold before we could finish it, irrespective of the amount of love she’d made it with, so it wasn’t much good for warming up. Even worse, today marked the arrival of the coldest cold front of the winter, and Haruhi wasn’t the only one whose teeth were chattering from the chill; Koizumi, Asahina, and I were right there with her. The only one who didn’t seem to mind was Nagato, who never seemed to care what the temperature was.

“I guess it’s really no fun unless you’re playing. Maybe I should get them to let me join the game. I bet I could throw that ball.”

Haruhi squinted her eyes in the face of the wind that tried to rob her of body heat.

“And if I don’t do something like that, I’m just gonna freeze here. Kyon, do you have anything? Like hand warmers?”

If I had, I would’ve been using them myself. If she wanted to warm herself up that badly, she could’ve run laps around the school grounds or played Red Rover. That made the most economic and environmental sense.

“Hmph. Fine then, I’ve got a perfectly nice hand warmer right here. Human-size too!”

Haruhi slowly came up behind Asahina and embraced her, wrapping her arms around the poor girl’s delicate neck.

“Wha—what’re you—?”

Asahina was unsurprisingly dismayed.

“Ooh, Mikuru, you’re so warm! And soft too!”

Haruhi buried her chin in the unsullied snowlike fur of Asahina’s collar, embracing the petite (and occasionally abundant) figure of her upperclassman.

“I think I’ll stay like this awhile. Hee hee, are you jealous, Kyon?”

You’re damn right I was. Although if I had my choice, I would’ve wanted to hug her from the front.

“Hmm?”

Haruhi pursed her lips.

“Wh—”

She cut herself off, then took a breath.

“So, with Mikuru, then?”

I looked back and forth between Haruhi’s mischievous face and Asahina’s terrified eyes as the former held her embrace on the latter, and I tried to think of a way to answer. From behind me, my rescue appeared.

“Would you like to play Red Rover with me, then?”

Butting into the conversation, the disgusting Koizumi smiled disgustingly.

“I wouldn’t mind going for a jog, but I’d also be just fine wrestling around with another man.”

Well, I wasn’t fine. I’ve said it before, but I don’t bat for that team. Koizumi should’ve stuck to giving football commentary. This was all about me, Nagato, and Nakagawa, anyway—Koizumi was just a bonus. In fact, given the circumstances, Asahina and Haruhi were bonuses too.

I gave him a sidelong glare.

“I couldn’t care less.”

The central character for the day—Nagato—was as silent as always, unmoving as she watched the field. I got the feeling she was following Nakagawa with her eyes, but there was no way to know for sure.

Meanwhile, Nakagawa never once looked our way, whether he was moving around the field as part of the offensive line or sitting on the sidelines. I’d gone to all the trouble of bringing Nagato out here and now—nothing? Even now, during halftime, he was gathered with his teammates in a circle as they had a serious-seeming meeting. Had his desire for victory won out over all other considerations?

Or was this all on purpose? If the things he’d said were true, he’d been struck completely dumb upon seeing Nagato from a distance. I’d thought that had to be an exaggeration, but if it were true, he definitely wouldn’t want to be stricken thusly during the game.

“Eh, whatever,” I muttered, looking at the back of Nagato’s head as the wind brushed the nape of her neck.

I guessed we could meet up with Nakagawa once the game was over and he came out of the school. If the second half ended smoothly, Nakagawa’s team would win and he’d be free.

The previous day, Nagato had said she wouldn’t mind seeing him, so having them meet up wouldn’t bother anybody. Truth be told, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but that didn’t mean I was so callous as to mercilessly crush somebody else’s hopes and dreams. I could hear a guy out, after all.

And yet.

Unfortunately, things did not go smoothly. The whistle signaling the resumption of play had blown, and we were about five minutes into the third quarter when—

Nakagawa was taken away in an ambulance.

Allow me to describe the circumstances of his injury. It went something like this.

The second half began with the opposing team’s kickoff. The returner got tackled at his own twenty-yard line, whereupon it was time for Nakagawa’s team to take the offense.

The teams lined up and hunched down at the line of scrimmage; Nakagawa was at the far edge. In the center, the white-uniformed quarterback seemed to call out some kind of signal to his left and right. At the signal, Nakagawa moved sideways along the line. At the same time, the quarterback received the ball and took two or three steps back as the tackles and linebackers of the defense came rushing forward like wild beasts.

Nakagawa sprinted, heading to the inside—he then turned and moved as though he were receiving a pass. But it was a fake—the quarterback flicked his wrist and sent the ball past Nakagawa to the wide receiver.

“Oh—!”

I wasn’t sure whether Haruhi or Asahina had raised her voice in surprise.

The ball spun like a bullet shot from a rifle, but the trajectory was a bit off. An opposing linebacker made a desperate jump but couldn’t quite manage the interception. Nakagawa’s team narrowly avoided a turnover as the ball brushed his fingers, but that was enough to perturb its path.

Just then—

I saw Nagato, up until that point as still as a bodhisattva’s statue, move her hand.

“…”

She drew her hood over her head, tugging it down a bit to obscure her line of sight. But from what of her face I could still see, I could tell that her lips were moving.

“—”

She was definitely muttering something—and fast too.

I only caught it out of the corner of my eye, since my attention was on the field.

“Whoa—”

I leaned forward, eyes widening.

I thought the ball had only been deflected slightly, but then I realized that its destination was the place where Nakagawa was currently dashing to at top speed. I saw him make a perfect leap, grab the ball in midair, and try to make a stable landing—

—but no.

Just as Nakagawa jumped, the cornerback who had been covering him also jumped. His goal was the same ball that every player prized nearly as much as his own life.

The cornerback had taken his broad jump just as Nakagawa was reaching the ball. As humans do not possess the wings they would need to change direction in midair, the player’s energy dropped to zero as he collided with the falling Nakagawa. Given that both players bounced off of and away from each other, you can imagine how intense the impact was.

The opposing cornerback spun ninety degrees and fell onto his back, while the defenseless Nakagawa rotated a full half turn, landing perfectly vertical on his head.

“Eek!”

Asahina cried out in concern.

I yelled too. Nakagawa had clearly landed in the worst possible way for a human being to land—like a pro wrestler who receives a Tombstone Piledriver or Sukekiyo in
The Inugami Clan
. But at least wrestlers had the mat, and Sukekiyo had the swamp. All Nakagawa had under him was the hard, cold earth.