# Ephemeral -- Part I

## A Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu fanfiction

### by Sarsaparilla (Sarsparilla on ff.net) and Brian Randall

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.

* * *

It had started out like any other day.

Sasaki had chosen her beige suit in anticipation of the searing hot afternoon
temperatures predicted by the weather forecast -- a modest comfort not
afforded to the majority of white-collar samurai sharing the early morning
commuter train with her. She stood impassively in her favorite corner, leaning
against the back wall of the passenger car in apparent contemplation of the
suburban scenery rushing past the window to the monotonous clatter of the
train.

If anyone had been using the same line often enough to pay attention to her
propensity to choose the particular spot they might have mistaken the habit
for a precaution against chikan, and she was content to leave it at that;
though, she couldn't help feeling mildly annoyed by the fact that groping in
public transport was common enough a phenomenon to have a specific word
reserved just for it.

While securing her bodily integrity from potential molesters was certainly an
ancillary benefit, it also drew attention away from the fact that, from this
vantage point, she could entertain herself by discreetly observing other
passengers.

Sasaki started with a man in his late twenties, standing in the middle of the
corridor like the owner of the place. Jaw jutting out, he was practically
radiating self-confidence while casually eyeing other passengers, as if
looking for a challenger for his status. She dodged eye contact while
analyzing the case. Upwardly mobile based on the attire and demeanor. Very
competitive, a typical alpha. Which device could be used to sell him an idea?
Posed as an implicit challenge, perhaps competitive sports with a strong
emphasis on personality? Golf? Motorsports?

She stole a second glance to affirm the assessment and noticed his wristwatch.
Definitely motorsports.

Then, there was a middle-aged man on a side seat. Nervous and preoccupied by
his thoughts, based on the twitchy manner of constantly readjusting his
eyeglasses. Sitting with a slight hunch: reserved, tired, beaten -- a common
enough combination for Sasaki to know instinctively what would work. First,
something unexpected to startle and grab attention, humorous rather than
threatening, then an upbeat message promising success and inclusivity while
the recipient is still chuckling at the initial joke. Easy enough.

Next to the man, an adolescent with headphones, lazily browsing a shounen
manga magazine.

Too easy.

Reading other people had always felt natural to her. The awareness that most
people could not do the same -- and might even find the concept uncomfortable
-- was what made her daily pastime a bit of a guilty indulgence. Certainly,
early on her husband had been delighted by her ability to anticipate his
wishes; it was not until much later when....

That was not a line of thought she was particularly interested in following on
such a fine morning, but since the mood had already managed to get its foot in
the door she reluctantly gave up and turned her attention to the day ahead.
She had already reviewed the results that would be presented during the
morning meeting, and she was confident enough to stand by her conclusions, but
Tanaka was an uncertain factor in the equation. There was nothing obviously
wrong with the numbers he had provided, but she could not escape the suspicion
that he was withholding some information from her.

There was a distant possibility that it could be a personal issue. To her mild
consternation, Tanaka had made thinly veiled advances to her at the official
new year's party, after her status had become common knowledge in the company,
but he had done it in a sufficiently circumspect manner to save face when she
had declined the offer. Tanaka was not a stupid man and had not broached the
subject ever since, but there had been a subtle change in his attitude, as if
he had initially thought of doing it as a favor. Well, he _was_ two years her
junior.

In any case, Sasaki was not interested in favors, especially of that kind.
Especially now.

Or perhaps she was reading too much into that single incident, and it was just
a matter of usual workplace politics. There had been rumors of boss Matsumoto
making preparations for retirement, and since his son was the head of Sasaki's
department, career advancement opportunities might open soon for those of
hard-working persuasion ... or cunning, as it might be. Sasaki liked her job
to the extent of knowing that she was good at it; the thought that somebody
might intentionally sabotage the common effort for personal gain, and the very
real possibility that the company could actually end up rewarding such
behavior, felt like a travesty.

She was not personally that interested in a managerial position, just averse
to the idea of Tanaka gaining it through less than wholesome means. However,
there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it since voicing her
suspicions without tangible proof of obstruction was out of question. She
would be on shaky ground even if she managed to produce irrefutable evidence,
as the necessary measures for achieving that might be interpreted as acting in
bad faith to incite internal conflict.

Oh well, too bad.

She sighed under her breath and this time actually turned her attention to the
scene outside the window. The train was slowing down as it approached
Kitaguchi station, and the traffic information on the display updated. She
would have six minutes to catch the next southbound train on the perpendicular
line -- more than enough for a short walk between the platforms.

The train arrived at the platform and stopped with a minor jolt. Several
passengers were leaving at this station, so she had to wait for a moment
before getting out. The outside air felt refreshing both in a figurative and
literal sense, and she joined the stream of people heading to the proper
direction.

The other -- and somewhat less pleasant -- side of Sasaki's inclination for
analytical observations manifested itself in situations like this when there
were too many people to be considered as individuals. She let her mind unfocus
a bit until reaching what she liked to think of as a mental phase transition;
the scenery around her ceased to exist as a collection of people and became an
organ of The Society, pumping its precious lifeblood forward with an almost
mathematical exactitude. On this level the properties of individual agents
were rather insignificant as long as they averaged out in the end, making it
possible to capture the behavior of the whole into simple equations. She knew
this to be true to a disconcerting degree -- after all, she had written some
of those equations herself.

It was an ethical dilemma -- even if she only used the knowledge to state how
things were, nothing prevented the clients from applying the leverage for
pushing things into a direction they wanted them to go. Hume had not provided
an opinion on how culpable she would be if something bad came out of that. But
on an even more fundamental level, she found the approach deeply unsatisfying.
It was almost as if an individual did not matter at all, being too
insignificant to cause a noticeable deviation, and too easily replaced by
another random specimen of the same class. Quite emphatically, she did not
want it to be true; it was really too bad, then, that her job depended on it.

Sasaki was still contemplating the apparent downfall of existentialism when
she became aware of a discrepancy in the model, pulling her back to the
physical reality of the transition hall. She looked around to find the cause
of the anomaly and caught a glimpse of a person standing in the middle of the
hall, reading traffic information from the large display on the wall. A person
she had not seen in a long time....

She managed to go through a number of possible opening lines in the short span
of time it took to cover the remaining distance until she stood face to face
with the person who had now also seen her. She noticed the details almost
unconsciously. A taupe gray blazer, striped shirt, no tie. Blue trousers. An
urban backpack. He was slightly taller than she remembered. Not just taller,
but more ... robust. A man. And still, the change was so subtle that Sasaki
suddenly had an uncanny feeling as if she had just stepped into a time
capsule.

She decided to go for the obvious option.

"Hi, Kyon!"

What was the expression on his face? Surprise? Delight? Certainly those, but
also something beyond that.

"Sasaki?"

A remark was made in Sasaki's mind, pointing out that statistically speaking
the statement only had a 45% chance of being true; she immediately ignored
that line of thought. Not only was it true at the moment, but it also felt
_right_, a subtle reminder of less complicated times. She knew that the smile
she had as they both stepped to the side to give way to other passengers felt
more genuine than the practiced one she had to wear daily at work.

"In this situation, people are expected to reply that they haven't seen each
other for ages, but it would actually be rather silly to do so, since we both
know that already. When was the last time, the third year of high school?" she
asked, despite knowing the answer.

He seemed to give the question a serious consideration. "If I remember
correctly, it was a day after the graduation ceremony. Right ... it has been a
long time."

"This is also how I remember it. Back then, you were aiming for Toudai. Did
you return to Nishinomiya after university, or are you here just on a visit?"

"I live here in Kotoen, at least most of the time. How about you?"

"I have an apartment in Ashiya, but my workplace is here. Now I'm feeling
guilty for not staying in contact after the high school. To think that we may
have been passing each other daily without noticing...."

"Regrettably, this failure has been mutual. My apologies."

Kyon scratched the back of his head while apologizing, and this gesture made
Sasaki realize that the reply was not just a pleasantry -- the issue really
bothered him.

Right then the display behind Kyon flashed, reminding Sasaki that she would
have to cut this chance meeting short if she wanted to get to work in time.

"I am terribly sorry, but my train leaves in a minute. Please call me later!"

Sasaki's official business card holder was too large to fit comfortably in her
purse, but she always carried a couple of cards in a smaller case for
unexpected situations like this. She picked a card from the stack and, after
checking quickly that it was indeed one of her own, offered it with a
practiced bow. The sudden formality seemed to amuse Kyon, but then he went
along and accepted the card with a bow of his own. Sasaki apologized once
again before hurrying away.

Just before heading down to the platform she turned around momentarily to
smile and wave. He was still standing at the same spot and responded to her
gesture. It was not until then that she finally figured out the inscrutable
component in his expression. If her intuition was still working properly, the
relevant word would have to be ... bewilderment? That did not seem to make
sense, and as she stepped into the train she had to suppress an urge to check
whether there was something wrong with her hair.

* * *

After the unexpected encounter, he found himself studying the business card on
the remainder of his trip. He knew the formula for exchange; even if he didn't
have his own cards, he still had a case for those he accepted. But there was
no reason to scribble any notes or reminders to himself on the back of her
card; she was one of those precious few people he'd never forget, under any
circumstance.

If he were younger and more excitable, he would have called her almost
immediately -- continued the conversation that hadn't even properly started on
cell-phone. Certainly, that sort of thing was looked down on in the crowded
commuter trains, but if it were important enough....

He resisted that temptation, despite his long-ago thoughts that he would never
see her again, and instead merely studied the card. The number was already
programmed into his phone, making the physical artifact almost entirely
pointless.

Almost.

Instead of obsessing over it, he saved it carefully with other business cards
he'd been presented with in the past and focused on his current mission.

If it could even be called that ... it was playful, in some senses, or
grandiose in others -- giving the self-assigned task more gravity and weight
than it probably deserved. On the other hand, it was how he made his living,
so the situation did deserve to be taken at least that seriously.

His phone held his other notes, so he pored over them from transfer-to-
transfer, until reaching the small village of Ohara. A tourist trap if he'd
ever seen one, and far enough away he might have been better served driving
instead of relying on public transit.

Driving wasn't exactly an option anyway, seeing as his car was in the shop
getting the timing belt replaced. It shouldn't have worn out quite as quickly
as it had, but stranger things had happened, hadn't they?

In any case, if he hadn't been in Kitaguchi, he wouldn't have had the chance
encounter he had -- and then where would he be?

So there wasn't any sense in complaining about it.

At least the temple of Jakko-in itself felt authentic.

From the bus stop it was a short hike up the stairs to where his 'client'
awaited, though he'd been subjected to -- and indeed, subjected himself to --
worse. The priest was wearing the traditional tsuseno headpiece, and robes
marked with large colored spots. He had to judge the priest's garb as a
reassuring sign; typically those who were seeking attention or participating
in a hoax had the more formal attire.

Without introducing himself, since he himself was wearing fairly casual
clothing, he nodded his head to the fretting priest and moved quietly to the
offering box. A donation bought him a few moments to study the area
discretely, while contemplating. He'd seen more than enough shrines in his
time, so it wasn't difficult to judge -- to pick out the small signs that
indicated the priest took care of it himself over mere observances to
tradition and the cultural heritage.

The grounds-keeping wasn't immaculate, though he wouldn't have judged it bad.
That suggested the priest actually did it himself, which was a promising sign.
The shrine in general didn't look poor, so it wasn't probably a desperate
attempt at generating income, either. The most obvious explanation that it
might be a hoax would be the priest's rank of gonsekai; if he were looking for
some 'event' that would elevate his status and help bypass the seikai rank
exams....

Enough of that; he didn't want to be judgemental, even if he had done this --
or something very like it -- many, many times before.

Turning to look at the priest, who stood near the torii leading into the
shrine's courtyard garden warily, he introduced himself, concluding as he did
from long habit -- something _else_ ingrained into him from those long-ago
high school and college years -- "...but you can call me Kyon. Most people do,
anyway."

The priest nodded anxiously, and without even trying to probe, Kyon searched
his face for a reaction. Mild tension about his eyes released; he heaved a
sigh and offered an uneasy smile. He was either a very good actor, or actually
believed he was relating the truth.

"You're the ... paranormal investigator?" the priest asked anxiously.

"While I can think of someone who would be delighted to call me that, I'm just
a journalist," Kyon demurred. "But I do happen to investigate paranormal
events for the subject of my articles."

Smiling softly, betraying a hint of uncomfortable nervousness, the priest
asked, "But, you've got experience with this sort of thing?"

Like he wouldn't believe, in point of fact, but instead of saying anything
along those lines Kyon just nodded. Clearing his throat briefly, he posed,
"Well -- let's go over the history, first. There was a fire here, years ago,
wasn't there?"

"Yes, but the restoration finished long ago, as well," the priest countered,
shaking his head.

"So I see," Kyon agreed appreciatively, looking across the grounds again.
Going over his notes mentally, he summarized what he'd already known from the
cursory internet searches he'd made.

"Let me offer you something to drink. We can continue this discussion in the
teahouse, so you can at least sit down," the priest insisted.

Kyon nodded in response, thinking it would be nice to set down his bag. "Thank
you," he said politely, bowing before falling into step behind the priest.

The temple had been established centuries ago, and its claims to fame were the
two and a half meter tall wooden statue of Jizo-Bosatsu, and the tomb of the
historical empress Taira no Tokuko, also called Kenrei-mon In. When the Taira
family was nearly wiped out by the Minamoto clan, she had been one of the few
survivors, and ultimately become a Buddhist nun in that very same shrine.

Or not exactly the same shrine, considering the fire -- but that wasn't really
the point of the investigation. He had time to think about it while the priest
fussed over making fresh tea. As he returned, bearing a pair of steaming cups,
Kyon rummaged for a pad of paper from his bag and prompted, "And now ... once
you're comfortable, can you tell me what happened?"

Nodding, the priest's jaw shifted slightly, setting in determination. He was
steeling himself to deliver the story, something he expected would not be
believed. And _that_ was something Kyon was more than familiar with, as well.

The priest haltingly started his explanation, while Kyon jotted down the
observations -- and here and there a direct quote for later use. It wasn't
terribly dissimilar from other stories that Kyon had heard before, in reality.
Of course, it was hard to label such a thing 'typical'. As always seemed to be
the case, there was no proof, just the visions that the priest recalled. His
story was simply that the Taira matriarch had somehow revived in spectral form
and wept before the statue of Jizo-Bosatsu.

When he was finally done, the priest asked, "So ... what do you think?"

Really, he thought it was strange that he was considered an authority on the
subject, and that priests turned to _him_ for his advice. He could think of
one person would would be pleased about that, though.

"Well," Kyon said at length, tapping his chin and considering things. "The
empress had lost her family before retreating to the temple. It does make
sense that she would have a connection to the statue of Jizo-Bosatsu, given
his role as a guardian of children."

Did that really 'prove' anything, though? As always, he had to admit to
himself that it didn't, really. He didn't have the option of just giving such
a weak answer and dodging the question, however.

The priest pressed, "But you've interviewed many people with similar stories.
What do you think?"

"I think we can see and be touched by things we can't prove to others," Kyon
finally answered, closing his notepad and putting his pen away.

"I see..." the priest answered thoughtfully.

Shaking his head to dismiss a distracting thought, Kyon bowed. "Thank you for
your time; this has been an interesting interview."

"Thank you for listening," the priest returned humbly. "I wasn't certain who
to take such a tale to."

"I think you can share it with the Jinja Honcho," Kyon suggested after a
moment. The Association of Shinto Shrines would listen, certainly. "I don't
know what they would make of it, but there's no reason to tell one journalist
and stop there."

"Perhaps I shall," the priest returned, smiling thoughtfully.

After relating similar stories he'd heard at other shrines, while he was
careful not to offer too much of his own opinions, Kyon excused himself for
the long journey back. It had taken long enough to get to the village; he
wouldn't reach his own home to begin writing until late that evening.

It was only after a bus had dropped him off at a train station and he was left
with a ten minute wait that he returned his attention to the business card
he'd received only that morning. It did list a cell phone number, not just an
office phone. It was even the cell phone number he'd already programmed into
his own -- but that wasn't the question. It was more ... at this hour, would
it be too late?

Was Sasaki the type to fraternize with her co-workers and go out drinking, as
commonly seemed to be expected of someone in her position? Would she excuse
herself and avoid it? Or perhaps her office was different and didn't do such
things?

Then again, it was also possible that she was still working.

Shrugging, he thought about what other longtime friends of his might have
done, and mustered the courage to call anyway. If it was a bad time, he could
leave a message for her, and she could call back when it was more convenient
to her.

After the third ring, he resigned himself to the message, trying to formulate
it in advance so it wouldn't sound clumsy and halting-- And she answered.

"Hello," she said politely. "This is Sasaki -- to whom am I speaking?"

He belatedly realized she wouldn't be able to recognize his number yet, so
chuckled and said, "Well, hello, old friend. Is this a bad time to speak?"

"Ah, Kyon," she replied softly, sounding suprised, but not unhappy. "Well, I
am afraid I do not have very much time at the moment, but I can spare a few
minutes. I did ask you to call me later, after all."

"In that case, shall we try and arrange something more convenient?" he asked.
"Perhaps we could meet for lunch some day?"

"Certainly," she agreed. "Your schedule isn't too busy?"

He suspected that was more a comment on her own free time, but perhaps it was
actually a probe into his own schedule. "It usually isn't," he admitted. If
there were any people he didn't see a reason to bother hiding things from, she
would be quite near the top of that list.

"In that case, are you free ... three days from now?" she asked, pausing as
though checking her own calendar.

"That should be fine--" He frowned as he heard the train tracks begin to hum.
At this remote station there were only a pair of other passengers waiting to
board. "Ah, my train is arriving. Can you send me an e-mail saying where you
would like to meet, and when?"

"That means I get to choose -- but I look forward to speaking with you again,"
she replied warmly. "Take care, Kyon."

"And you as well, Sasaki," he returned, before they both disconnected, as the
approaching train's brakes began to sound.

* * *

The commercial district surrounding Imazu station had relatively little
pedestrian traffic at lunch time. Sasaki was fairly certain that she could get
to the meeting point in time, as it was just a short walk away from her
workplace; however, she couldn't help feeling unusually self-conscious as she
approached her destination.

She had hesitated for a while before choosing the wisteria skirt suit that she
was sparing for special occasions. By doing so she was certainly forfeiting
her ability to blend inconspicuously in the crowd; instead of being able to
discreetly observe other people, she could sense how she was now the target of
many an aside glance. While the attention she was drawing was not disapproving
by any measure, she would rather have done without.

She reminded herself that this _was_ a special occasion. The unexpected
meeting a couple of days ago had acted as a reminder of a different world that
was at apparent odds with her own; of events that in retrospect felt like a
fever dream.

In the past she had occasionally tried to convince herself that it would be
better to forget certain things altogether, but the lingering awareness of a
fundamental fallacy in the rational, mechanistic world view refused to go
away. If it was the truth, the only prudent course of action was to accept it
regardless of how nonsensical it appeared at the first glance.

But if she was to be honest with herself, there was more to her anticipation
of this meeting than just the philosophical aspect. Sasaki knew precious few
people with whom she could speak her mind without reservations, and Kyon's
name had been on top of that short list for a very long time. Concerning the
extraordinary, then ... since she had lost contact with Tachibana the only
remaining person on _that_ list was him.

That had to be the reason for why she was feeling so cheerful today, wasn't
it?

She arrived at the square in front of the station and saw that Kyon was
already there waiting for her, raising his hand in greeting as soon as he
noticed her.

"I am sorry for not arriving earlier," she excused, after greeting in
response. "I hope that this did not cause too much inconvenience to you."

This was just a standard courtesy, as she could see from his expression that
he was anything but bothered in the situation.

"You were punctual, so there's no need to apologize -- and this is about as
far removed from inconvenience as I can imagine," he replied. "I assume that
the restaurant is nearby?"

"You are right, it is only one block away. Regrettably, this area doesn't have
as many options as Shugukawa, but I couldn't arrange a long enough break for
going all the way there and back ... so I am glad that your schedule was
flexible enough to accommodate this."

Kyon shrugged as they headed in the direction she had indicated. "There wasn't
any schedule worth mentioning. This is only the second fixed item in my
calendar for this week, after the one I was working on the day we met the last
time.

"That's also why I arrived early," he continued, while they walked down the
street. "I didn't have anything that absolutely needed to be done until
tomorrow, so I decided to take a look around this side of the city. I remember
when this was mostly a residential area, with some industrial facilities
closer to the seafront, but in the last ten years those seem to have given way
to offices and shops, to the extent that I can hardly recognize the place."

Sasaki reflected on the statement and found it to be true; certainly, her own
company was one of the newcomers.

"It is not that different from succession in an ecological system, is it?" she
eventually said out loud. "The same laws of survival and expediency govern the
collective actions of people, complex group behavior emerging from the
seemingly simple choices of individual agents. People can accept personal
responsibility for their actions to the extent those affect their immediate
surroundings; however, the relation between that and collective responsibility
is tenuous at best.

"This only suggests that the society can be treated as a living organism, and
like all such entities it must reaffirm its existence by constantly recreating
itself through the dissociative and constructive processes of metabolism."

The comment drew out a chuckle from Kyon, and noticing Sasaki's curious glance
he explained, "There wasn't anything funny in what you said. It was just that
-- well, I couldn't think of anyone else who would make a comment like that,
but coming from you it sounds completely natural -- trivial, even."

He smiled reassuringly. "I'm just glad to see that as much as things change,
some of them always stay the same."

Sasaki was not sure how to respond to this, but she knew that Kyon had managed
to point out a reason for the buoyancy she was feeling at the moment. He might
have a slightly more outspoken, decisive air on him, but he was still very
much the same Kyon she had known. Despite all the intervening years, he had
still called her a friend.

And it was an acceptable break from the principle of equality for friends to
set some time aside to be shared between them, even at the exclusion of
others, wasn't it? For personal needs to temporarily supercede those of the
community. After all ... personal did not have to mean the same as
insignificant.

Those thoughts got sidelined when they reached the intended destination, a
small and outwardly inconspicuous restaurant on the ground level of a multi-
storey building.

"This is a traditional place?" Kyon asked, taking a look around after they had
stepped in and were courteously shown to a table. The two-person booth they
were given was separated from those on either side of it by simple screens of
white paper in a wooden frame, of the same tone as the table, providing a
semblance of privacy. Other than a piece of calligraphy on the wall, interior
furnishing followed a starkly minimalist style.

"I hope that you find Kyoto-style kaiseki an acceptable option. I can attest
to the quality of the seasonal dishes," Sasaki confided, leaning closer to
keep the conversation private. Seeing his expression, she laughed and
continued, "Of course I do not eat here daily. Never mind the price, I
wouldn't possibly have enough time to spare for a full course. However, my
colleagues and I sometimes bring our clients here for a dinner, if meetings
last that long. Everyone agrees that this is the best place in the area."

"I've mostly had kaiseki while staying at a ryokan -- that is, not very
often," he said reflectively, "but I think that it is an entirely appropriate
choice. After all, the original kanji used to write the word simply stood for
a 'get-together meal', and I'm happy to share one with you today."

"I am relieved to hear that, as I had taken the liberty to make the order in
advance," she admitted, as an elaborately arranged appetizer was brought in.
"This way, we will have more time to talk about things while eating. So ...
itadakimasu."

There was a moment of polite silence as they gave an appropriate amount of
attention to the assortment of colors and tastes of sakizuke.

"So, how have you been, old friend?" Kyon asked after a while. "From what I
can see, you appear to be working just as diligently towards your goals as
when we were at school."

"It can't be helped that we all behave in a way that is in harmony with our
personal tendencies, can it? After all, that is exactly what makes us who we
are," she said. "It is true that work takes a large part of my time right now,
but that is a choice I made myself. I can only hope that the results will be
worth the effort."

"Well -- since I got your business card I took a glance at the web pages of
your company, but that didn't really tell anything pertinent about your job.
What is it that an analyst does in the context of PR consulting?"

"I could give a detailed answer, but it would require you to sit still and
listen for two hours, without breaks, and I don't have my presentations with
me, anyway," Sasaki said in a wry tone. Finishing the morsel she had picked
from the plate, she continued, "Basically, it is my task to find out why
people behave the way they do, and how they can be enticed into doing
something specific."

"Sounds like psychology to me," he observed.

"It is that, too, but applied to the society as a whole. Mostly, it is just
statistics. I must assume that you would find my day-to-day work incredibly
boring compared to your own. While we both work in fields that could arguably
be seen as facets of social anthropology, at least you get to travel around
and actually meet the people you write about. In a sense, our jobs are polar
opposites of each other, since I study the many for the benefit of a few, but
you study the few for the benefit of everybody."

Kyon blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong ... but I don't remember telling
anything about my own job -- yet."

The openly sceptical expression on his face reminded Sasaki of times long
gone, and she could not help feeling a little bit nostalgic.

"But of course, it must be a trick," she said, laughing. "The detective who
can deduce astonishingly accurate facts from inconspicuous details is a well-
known archetype, but in reality sufficiently specific details are almost never
present. Or, a mentalist who seems to be reading minds is just delivering
carefully crafted platitudes and relying on confirmation bias for the opponent
to unwittingly fill in the facts.

She shook her head. "While it might be an interesting proposition to be able
to do something like that, the reality is as mundane as my work. I know about
your job because I have read several of your articles over the years. They are
well researched and thoughtful, so finding a new one is always a delight.
Besides the stories themselves, it makes me glad to see you doing something
that you so evidently enjoy."

"Ah, you're too kind," Kyon managed, slightly taken aback by the direct
praise. "After some studying most stories practically write themselves, so I'm
just a middle-man of a sort. And -- if you say that your work is mundane, then
most of what I do could be described with the same word. Reading books, going
to a library or museum to check a fact, having a meeting with the editor....

"But you're right, I'm doing it because it's enjoyable -- at least when it
doesn't rain on a field day," he added, with a smile.

"So, you were investigating a new lead on Monday when we met at the railway
station?" Sasaki asked. "I assume that it was the other appointment that you
mentioned."

"That's right, I was going to Ohara to have an interview concerning one
potential case -- although I don't know yet where and when I'll be using that
material. Sometimes it feels like for each case that ends up in an article
there are ten just using up space in the archive."

"Would you mind telling me about it? Somehow, a place like Ohara does not
sound like the most likely destination for an investigation of paranormal
phenomena."

"Most of them don't," Kyon countered, just as sashimi was brought to the
table. "On the contrary, eyewitnesses' accounts tend to be more authentic when
there isn't any apparent reason for the things they experienced. I'm sure that
you're well aware of preconceived notions affecting people's interpretation of
events, which is why there are so many ghost stories related to famous haunted
locations like the Himeji Castle -- each of those stories more suspect than
the other. But, this one sounded reasonably genuine -- if I'm anybody to judge
these things."

As he started with the story, Sasaki noticed that she was paying more
attention to how he talked about the events than to the described events
themselves; there was something in his calm and measured tone of voice that
made her wish that the story would be as long as one of his written articles,
although that certainly could not be the case.

Now that she thought about it, hadn't one of the things that she had liked in
the articles been that she could hear his voice behind the written words --
sometimes laconic and factual, sometimes erudite and verging on the
philosophical, but always mindful and sensible? So dependable that the reader
couldn't help agreeing with his point of view. That was one of the traits that
made him such a compelling writer. She always felt as if he was making a
personal connection through the text, talking directly to the reader. To her.

And now he was here with her, doing exactly that. The experience was so far
removed from her daily routines that it felt slightly unreal.

She wondered whether she should feel at least a little bit guilty for enjoying
the moment so much, for appropriating his attention just for herself. Was it
selfish? A sign of repressed emotional issues? She rejected the notion. She
would have noticed if there had been any romantic undertones to the situation,
and there weren't.

Just two old friends having a lunch together. There was nothing wrong with it.

"...and then, while waiting a train back to Nishinomiya I called you," Kyon
finished his description.

"And ... that is all there is to it?" Sasaki asked, cocking her head
appraisingly to the side. "It feels somehow ... incomplete."

"That'd be a rather befitting word for most cases that I encounter. We humans
tend to seek closure in a story because it's a satisfying experience, like a
refined dessert at the end of a good meal. It's something that every decent
writer knows by instinct to include -- but in the real world most stories
hardly get as far as to the soup.

"Or, there might be a closure, but we'll never learn about it because it
happens somewhere else, to someone else. That ... is something we just have to
accept the way it is."

His tone of voice was surprisingly solemn, making Sasaki think that the issue
probably had some personal meaning to him. However, it would have been
impolite to point that out in the middle of light conversation, so she decided
to change the topic a little.

Remembering his supernatural friends and their club for searching the
extraordinary, she was impressed by what they had managed to accomplish after
high school. Wasn't it a bit like hiding in plain sight?

"So, how do you divide the work?" she asked casually.

As soon as she had said this she knew that she had made a mistake; she just
didn't know yet how big it was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that you do the research and the final writing part...," she said,
hoping against all odds that she had simply misread the cues, and
simultaneously chiding herself for making such an unwarranted assumption.

Kyon looked quizzically at her for a moment before spotting the unvoiced
question.

"You're talking about Haruhi, aren't you? You can remember Haruhi?"

"How could I not remember her?" Sasaki asked, pushed off balance by the
unexpected response.

He lowered his chopsticks and paused for a moment, as if trying to set his
words carefully.

"Haruhi ... is not with us any more."

Sasaki had to put her hand over her mouth to avoid making an audible gasp.
Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it. There was an acute sense of pain,
at the same time sympathy for him and regret for her own inadvertent broaching
of the topic, and she could only manage a weak, "I am sorry...."

Seeing her reaction, he hastily continued, "Eh, it's not like that. I meant
quite literally that she's not _here_, in this world. I'm certain that she's
still somewhere -- I just don't know where ... or when."

"And ... she won't be coming back?" Sasaki asked hesitantly, still perplexed
but deriving a tiny bit of reassurance from Kyon's apparent calmness.

He reflected on the question for a moment before answering, "No, I don't think
that she'll be coming back -- at least in a form that we would recognize." His
words had an air of finality in them; not one of grief but of conviction.

"It was inconsiderate of me to think -- ah, I really ruined the mood, didn't
I? I am genuinely sorry for this," she said, deeply dissatisfied with herself.

"Again, there isn't any need to apologize. You couldn't have known -- and I
made a false assumption as well. Actually, it was already the second in a row,
so I'm at least as culpable as you."

He sighed and looked at the half-finished sashimi on the table.

"Oh well ... I guess that it was something that was bound to come up sooner or
later. I don't think that you ruined the mood as such, but there is a real
danger of the meal getting ruined unless we keep eating. If you find it
acceptable, I can try to explain myself at the same time. Please don't get me
wrong, in a sense it's a relief for me to be able to talk about it --
especially with you, of all people."

There was another moment of silence, one that Sasaki did not dare to break
when she noticed that he was contemplating some inner vision, a memory from a
different time.

"Well, 'explain' was probably too strong a word," he said after a while. "I
can tell you what happened, but of the reasons behind it I have only a vague
hunch. To a large extent it's still a mystery to me ... and I think that just
now it became even more mysterious.

"Now, where to start-- You probably know already that I was indeed admitted to
Toudai despite my initial reservations. My general achievement score was only
barely good enough to qualify for the actual entrance exam, and even my
parents thought that I'd have better chances with some other place, but Haruhi
had decided that I'd pass the exams -- and after she had set her mind on that
goal the entire general examination committee couldn't have prevented her from
getting her way.

"I think that I've never studied harder than at that time," he said,
chuckling, "but in the end it was probably for the best, considering that I
did indeed get into the most prestigious university in Japan -- and quite
probably by the smallest possible margin, too. Of course, she herself passed
the exams with flying colors after all the tutoring she had given to me.

"So, we both went to Toudai ... as did Nagato, as well, although she soon got
so absorbed in her studies that we seldom saw each other during those years.
Concerning the rest of us ... I believe that Koizumi took up a job in family
business after his graduation, or at least that's what he claimed when we had
anniversary gatherings of the SOS Brigade.

"Then, Asahina-san had already graduated a year before the rest of us. She
kept visiting us on occasion, but I suspect that she was doing that on
borrowed time -- there were small things like having wrong clothes for the
season or being uncertain about the day of the week. I ... kind of knew about
her situation, but we never talked about it openly. Somehow, it felt easier
that way.

"Although the Brigade was never officially disbanded, in the end it was mostly
just Haruhi and me doing all the ordinary things that university students
everywhere do -- and it appeared to be good enough for both of us.

"I think that Haruhi calmed down a lot during those years, genuinely enjoying
a life that was seemingly devoid of anything supernatural. It bothered me a
bit that I knew things that she didn't, but whenever I tried to speak about it
with her, she was extremely good at not hearing what I said. So ... after a
while I just let it be. It didn't feel that important any more -- compared to
all the other things that happened.

He paused for a moment, as a waiter discreetly switched the empty sashimi
plates to bowls of nimono.

"Looks like zucchini is in season again," Kyon observed after raising the lid,
gesturing her to start with the dish. "Now, where was I? By 'calming down' I
don't mean that Haruhi would've lost either her seemingly endless energy or
outlandish ideas. If anything, her enthusiasm for experiencing everything
possible under the sun only grew as time went by.

"I ... can't exactly say that I didn't enjoy being involved in it all.
However, there was always a part of her that felt somehow distant. It's hard
to put in words ... a sudden pause in conversation, a faraway look in her eyes
even if only for a fleeting moment ... and when the spell was over she again
behaved as if nothing had happened.

"It became more noticeable during the last semester before graduation. She
might pause and tune out in the middle of other activities, as if listening to
distant sounds that only she could hear. I was slightly worried, but when
confronted about it she always claimed that she was as happy as it was
possible to be, and other than those moments when she was somewhere far away
her actions proved without doubt that she was telling the truth.

"Then, one day near the end of October she went missing during a break between
morning lectures. I didn't initially pay much attention to that since diligent
studying had never been her first priority, but when she wasn't present in the
afternoon either I started to get worried.

"When I got back to the apartment after the classes I found her there,
vigorously preparing a dinner that would've been fit for an emperor.
Apparently, she had taken the day off to find all the required ingredients and
to prepare them properly. When I tried to find out the reason for such a
feast, she said that she just felt like doing it. I had learned that when it
came to Haruhi, that was often the most detailed answer one was going to get,
so I let it be.

"After we had eaten the dinner and washed the dishes she sat on the couch and
said that she wanted to talk, and I didn't have anything against the idea. We
spent the evening talking about all kinds of things, but most of all about the
experiences we had shared, about family and friends ... and eventually about
the supernatural as well.

"While she didn't admit it directly, that night I got the impression that she
knew about those things that we weren't supposed to tell her about -- aliens,
espers, time travelers, the whole lot. Quite possibly, she had known all along
and just didn't want to acknowledge it for her own reasons.

"My memories about the latter parts of the conversation are a bit hazy. I
think that I had lost my sense of time and was starting to feel really tired,
when something that she said suddenly grabbed my attention. At first I didn't
quite understand what she was trying to explain, and after I realized what her
words meant I was too stunned to think straight.

"She was bidding me farewell."

He fell silent for a moment, absorbed in his thoughts. Sasaki could barely
breathe while it lasted.

"Of course, I couldn't understand why it was happening," he continued. "First
I thought that I might've done something wrong, but she furiously denied that
was the case. She talked something about an obligation and her having promised
to fulfill it ... that we all had agreed to it. That everything happened for a
reason.

"She thanked me for the time I had given her, and for the shared memories that
she would cherish forever. She said that I would understand one day -- that I
just had to keep searching. Her final words were that she had faith in me, and
then ... she turned into light in my arms."

He paused to clear his throat. "I don't know if I can describe it properly. It
didn't feel as much like her vanishing as it felt like I was myself fading
from one reality to another where she wasn't present any more, and the light
that I had seen was that of the rising sun, just breaching the horizon.
Whatever it was, it didn't change the fact that she was gone."

Despite her best efforts to avoid getting agitated, a storm of conflicting
feelings was raging in Sasaki's mind. She was at the same time profoundly
startled by the story, so sorry for his loss that she could have cried, and
then ... something else that she couldn't quite grasp. There was something
significant in what he had just told her -- she just couldn't spot it at the
moment. She hoped fervently that she could look just as calm and composed as
he.

"You have my sympathies ... if that means anything," she eventually managed,
inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm down.

"Thank you -- it certainly does," he said affably.

They barely noticed when the next dish, grilled mackerel, was brought in.

"Of course, I'd lie if I claimed that I wasn't upset back then," Kyon said
after a moment of reflection. "It didn't seem to make any sense, and
considering all the other things I had experienced....

"One of the first things that I found out was that Haruhi wasn't the only one
who had disappeared. Nagato wasn't anywhere to be found either, and Koizumi's
phone number wasn't in use any more. I didn't even know how to contact
Asahina-san, but there was little reason to believe that she would've been an
exception. Whatever plane of existence it was that called them back ... they
went there together."

Sasaki had a small epiphany. "I think that you might add Tachibana-san to that
list. We used to write to each other even after high school, but at some point
she stopped replying. Back then I didn't think so much about it, but I think
that it coincided with the events that you described."

"Well, that would make sense -- or at least as much sense as anything else,"
he said.

"Furthermore, all those people didn't just disappear -- it was as if they had
never been there in the first place. Haruhi and Nagato weren't on the student
list any more, and as I kept asking around I realized that I was the only
person who could remember them. Nothing had taken their place, either -- there
was just a conspicuous void in the official records and in the memories of
people who had been in contact with them.

"It would've been easy to start thinking that I had lost my mind, but I guess
that the craziness of my high school years kind of inoculated me against that.
And ... after a while I learned to cope with the new situation -- since there
wasn't anything else I could do.

"The only proof that I hadn't dreamed up everything I got shortly after
graduation, when I found the old Brigade chief armband while sorting out my
belongings. I think that it was also the moment when I finally accepted that
Haruhi wouldn't be coming back. The armband was accompanied by a hand-written
note by her, reminding me that it was now my responsibility to keep searching.

"And as you know already, that's what I've been doing."

"It may sound terribly trite for me to say this, but ... I believe that she
would heartily approve," Sasaki said respectfully, almost whispering.

"I'd like to think that way as well. We can only hope, right? Regardless of
the amount of planning, life sometimes has its way of throwing you an
unexpected curve ball."

He turned his attention to the dish for a moment, before continuing, "But,
this bring us back to the current situation. I must regrettably admit that I
thought that you might have disappeared as well, and never came around to
actually checking that assumption. So, you can probably imagine my surprise
when I saw you the other day."

"The surprise was something that I noticed, but I would never have guessed the
reason behind it," she admitted. "In a way, that makes my inactivity look even
worse, since I at least knew that you were still there."

"But you didn't know that I didn't know. Eh ... if there are any more levels
of recursion in this issue I'd better start making notes to not lose track.

"Anyway, that was something I could have handled better, and then I made
another mistake by assuming that, like everybody else, you couldn't possibly
remember the SOS Brigade. I thought that there might still be enough shared
memories for us to have a pleasant conversation about good old times, and then
... this happened." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"I am really sorry that this reunion turned out to have a taste that neither
of us could anticipate or appreciate," she said with a sigh, "but at the same
time I cannot see how it could have been avoided, considering what each of us
knew in advance. I just wish...."

She got distracted by the same feeling again, that there was something that
she should have noticed, and sunk momentarily into introspection to spot the
cause, but other than a mild craving for comfort to counterbalance the chagrin
she had unleashed she couldn't find anything related to the situation -- and
that was not what she was looking for.

"I think that your attitude is admirable," she eventually said, trying to
ignore the nagging feeling for a moment, "and I hope that something positive
could come out of this as well. I am quite astonished to hear that I am the
only person you have met who can remember your friends. On the outlook of it,
this would appear to carry some significance even if we cannot tell what it
is."

A set of rice, miso and pickles was served, indicating that the lunch was
almost finished.

"That's exactly the thought I had in mind as well," he said. "There are always
coincidences, but this looks far too conspicuous to be one. If you don't mind,
I would really appreciate hearing your opinion on some of the theories I have
been thinking."

"I would be glad to help any way I can, although my opinion cannot be worth
much as I lack your detailed knowledge of the field."

"You're giving yourself less credit than is due. You can provide a fresh
perspective, and if you have been following my work then you probably know
more about paranormal phenomena than a minivan full of so-called 'experts'.
And in any case" -- he smiled for the first time in a long while -- "expertise
doesn't really matter one way or another. The important thing is that we were
both there ... and remember it."

She was impressed by his unflappable disposition. If he could remain sensible
and positive on the face of such experiences, then she should certainly give
herself the permission to do the same. That smile was ... contagious.

"Very well then, I will try my best!"

"That's all I could hope for," he said, visibly pleased. "Now, to arrange my
thoughts in a logical order...." He paused for a moment while they ate miso.
"Are you familiar with the myths related to 'aos si'?"

"The name sounds familiar, but I don't remember the context. Which culture
does it belong to?"

"Perhaps you'd recognize the name 'sidhe' better? In Gaelic folklore."

"Oh right, you wrote about them in that series on European mythology. They are
Irish fairies, aren't they?"

"That's true, although the word 'fairy' might give a misleading impression
about their nature. The sidhe are not cute little critters dancing hand in
hand on top of flowers -- while some of them might appear pleasant to the eye,
others certainly wouldn't; when it comes to their overall demeanor, 'fearsome'
would be a better description than 'cute'."

"Isn't that a rather common feature of supernatural beings? The same could be
said of youkai in Japanese folklore," she observed.

"There are indeed many similarities between the sidhe and youkai. Considering
their disparate roots, that's an interesting thing in itself.

"However, where youkai are based on an amalgamation of a number of traditions,
giving rise to a rich, almost bewildering variety of entities, the myths on
sidhe form a much more consistent, monolithic cycle about the 'people of the
mounds'.

"There are a number of aspects that are worth mentioning, among them a belief
that the sidhe live in an invisible parallel universe that coexists with our
own, or a belief in the significance of particular times of day or the year.
But, perhaps the most important thing is that the sidhe are bound by specific
rules -- although not necessarily ones that make much sense to us humans.

"Still, there's a common theme of reciprocity, the idea that in order to get
something, you must give something in return. In essence, the relationship
between humans and the sidhe is not one of open animosity but of a somewhat
reserved cohabitation with a potential for mutual benefit."

"I remember that point from your article," she noted. "Your suggestion that it
reflects the cultural changes in the transition from a nomadic to a primarily
agricultural society with occupational specialization necessitating trade
sounds entirely plausible."

The dessert -- a sorbet -- was served, and Sasaki caught herself wishing that
she would have ordered the twelve dish course instead of the more reasonable
six dish one. There were still so many things she wanted to discuss, so many
unanswered question despite the reserved time running out as fast as the food
in the bowls.

"That'd be a rather obvious rational explanation, and thus one that is safe to
offer. When it comes to _irrational_ explanations...." He made a vague gesture
with his hand. "Well, although a literal interpretation is out of question, do
you think that it's too far-fetched to suggest that these kinds of myths could
contain a trace of truth in them?"

"There was a period in my life when I would have adamantly denied the
possibility, but then I was ... convinced otherwise. That was probably a
valuable lesson in keeping the mind open to the unexpected," she admitted.

"We graduated from the same school concerning that issue. Well then, I don't
remember whether I mentioned it in my article, but there's one myth that I
found particularly interesting -- that of 'leanan sidhe'. Basically, it means
a woman of the sidhe who seeks out a human man for a relationship."

"In our own folklore, kitsune sometimes do that as well."

"That's true, but the covenant between leanan sidhe and a man comes with some
peculiar rules. If the man accepts the proposal, she becomes his lover and a
muse, offering inspiration in his life ... which won't last long, because
their relationship drives him into madness and to a premature death. And if he
doesn't accept, she must become his slave."

"That sounds rather cruel. Regardless of what they do, there is no happy
ending."

"Back when these myths were born, life used to be both casually cruel and on
the short side compared to our more civilized world. But if we peel away the
cultural influences, the basic idea ... seems to fit. That there are rules
that must be obeyed, one way or another. That it's an exchange, a trade -- our
time for theirs.

"What if," he said, tentatively, "a happy ending as we usually understand it
were as unattainable to such a being as faster-than-light travel is to us, but
there was a ... creative way to go around the rules to avoid an altogether
unhappy one. In that case, could the end result be considered at least
moderately happy?"

"From a theoretical point of view, recent studies suggest that happiness as a
subjective sense of well-being may not be the primary factor in--"

Sasaki's explanation was cut short by an insistent buzzing sound. It took her
a moment to reorient herself from the world of myths and fairies back to the
restaurant table and to notice that the sound was coming from her purse.

"Oh, I forgot to turn off my phone. Please excuse me...." She picked up the
phone to silence it and noticed that the incoming message was marked as
urgent. She couldn't just ignore it, regardless of how tempting that would
have been.

"Work issues," she explained while reading the message. "Apparently, my boss
is of the opinion that my continued absence is detrimental to the proper
functioning of the department. I am really sorry for this."

"Well, I guess that it can't be helped." He looked just as disappointed as she
was.

"In any case, that is probably a question only you yourself can answer," she
continued.

"I ... what?"

"You asked whether lack of unhappiness can be considered happiness. I believe
that the only meaningful answer can be one a person finds on his own."

"Oh, right." He looked at the table for a moment, in contemplation, before
concluding, "Anyway, thank you for the meal, it was a feast. Maybe we can
continue the discussion some other time?"

"I would love to do that," she said, "and hopefully on a more leisurely
occasion, if I can arrange one."

"Uh, what about the bill?" he asked, as Sasaki simply thanked the personnel on
their way out.

"You don't have to worry about that. The invoice will be sent to my office and
I will settle it later."

"I should pay at least my own part of it, but I don't even know how much that
is," he protested, although without much vigor. "Well, it only means that the
next one's on me, right?" he added, as they stepped out into bright sunlight.

"It is agreed, then. I will be looking forward to that!" she said, with a
smile. "And ... thank you for your time."

He looked surprised for a fleeting moment, before answering with a smile of
his own. "Likewise. You've got my number now; please don't hesitate to call me
whenever you feel like it."

"I will do that. See you later, Kyon!"

On her way back to work Sasaki was feeling almost dizzy by all the new
thoughts that were whirling around in her head. It was not a bad feeling as
such, just ... unusual.

But she still didn't know what the nagging little voice in her mind tried to
tell her.

* * *