The Sigh of Haruhi Suzumiya Read Free Page A

profile out of all of us. You could say that her background is even more eccentric than Haruhi’s. Haruhi’s makes absolutely no sense at all, but Nagato’s kind of makes sense—which just confuses me more. If I believe what Nagato says, then this silent-expressionless-emotionless-heartless-quadruple-combo short-haired petite female student isn’t human but an alien-made communication machine. Don’t ask me what that is. I don’t know. She said so herself, so I have nothing to add. Apparently, it’s true. But it’s a secret Haruhi doesn’t know about. Haruhi just thinks that she’s “a slightly odd bookworm” and nothing else.
    Though from an objective standpoint, I’m thinking “slightly” is a bit off.
    “Where’s Koizumi?”
    Haruhi’s sharp glare shot to Asahina. Asahina unconsciously flinched.
    “I-I don’t know. He hasn’t showed up yet. He sure is late….”
    She carefully took tea leaves from the tea caddy and placed them into the teapot. I casually surveyed the garment rack in the corner of the room. It contained a number of outfits, as though this were a dressing room for the drama club. From left to right, nurse outfit, bunny, summer maid, cheerleader, yukata, doctor’s coat, leopard skin, frog costume, some fluttery transparent thing I didn’t recognize, et cetera, et cetera.
    Each and every one of them has been graced by the warmth of Asahina’s skin over the past six months. There was no meaning in Asahina wearing any of these. It was solely for the sake of satisfying Haruhi. Maybe she had some kind of trauma from her childhood. Like her parents wouldn’t buy her a Barbie doll. Which was why she was playing with Asahina now. Consequently, Asahina’s trauma built steadily, and my eyes were treated to a divine feast. Well, if you add it all up, I guess more people ended up happy than not, so I just kept my mouth shut.
    “Mikuru, tea.”
    “Y-yes. Right away.”
    Asahina hurriedly poured green tea into the teacup labeled
Haruhi
in Magic Marker before placing it on a tray and slowly carrying it over.
    Haruhi blew on the hot tea before speaking like a master of flower arranging criticizing the ineptitude of an apprentice.
    “Mikuru, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you this before. Do you remember?”
    “What?”
    Asahina clung to the tray nervously.
    “What was it again?” She tilted her head questioningly like a java sparrow trying to remember the taste of the hemp seeds it ate the day before.
    Haruhi set her teacup on the desk. “When you carry the tea over, you’re supposed to trip and spill the tea once every three times! You’re not acting the least bit like a clumsy maid!”
    “Wha—Ah… I’m sorry.”
    Asahina shrugged. This was the first I’d heard of such an order. So what, Haruhi thinks that all maids are clumsy?
    “That’s fine, Mikuru. You can practice on Kyon. Make sure the teacup ends up flipped over on his head.”
    “Huh?”
    That was Asahina’s response as she turned and glanced at me. I was looking around for a drill so I could plug up that empty hole in Haruhi’s head, but unfortunately I couldn’t find one, so instead I just sat and sighed.
    “Asahina, only people with mental issues find Haruhi’s jokes funny.”
    You should have learned that by now. But I refrained from voicing that last sentiment.
    Haruhi’s eyes narrowed.
    “Hey, stupid. I’m not joking! I’m always serious!”
    Then it must be worse than we thought. You should go get a CT scan. And if I get really pissed whenever you call me stupid, does that mean I lack a sense of humor?
    “Fine. I’ll show you how it’s done. You go next, Mikuru.”
    Haruhi leapt from her metal chair, swiped the tray from the babbling Asahina, picked up the teapot, and began pouring tea into the cup marked with my name.
    As I watched in a daze, Haruhi set the teacup on the tray, spilling a considerable amount. She verified my location before nodding and heading toward my position, which was when I plucked