Do you like the pun? Huh? Do you?


"Sometimes I want to see you as a girl, Kyon…"

That worthless babble was more or less the norm if it was coming from her mouth. In fact, I've often found a queer sense of relief whenever she made one of those statements. Not that I wouldn't rather want her to act "normal", no.

I mean, it's either deal with the crap that escapes from the enigmatic confines of her mind with the glorious tactic of ignoring her, or Haruhi Suzumiya creates an abysmal situation that only she would find interesting.


Thousands of years ago, when Daedalus and his son molded wings using wax and feathers to escape from Crete, I wouldn't be too surprised to see Haruhi tailgating after Icarus with wings of her own into the sky with a wide and stupid smile on her face. Then again, to see her covered in melted wax…

…crap, where was I going with that, anyway?

Her brazen and outrageous remarks are what make Haruhi, Haruhi. But that's beside the point.

As I find myself haggardly lifting each dead weight that I call a leg up the stairs of my house, I pant in joy and beam over what I was able to overcome when I reach the top.

When I compare the types of activities we went through, and who was the one hollering at us to keep going, I think Mr. Balboa had it easy.

I never thought my bed could ever look so inviting as I stumble my way across the short distance of wooden floor to my room. That was when a rapid succession of light thumps caught my attention, and without a chance, I was tackled to my stomach by my "dear" little sister.

"Hi, Kyon!" she giggled and squealed as I groaned from the floor's impact to my already weary body. Besides, can't you call me "Onii-san" at least once more before I die here where I lay?

Her petite button nose sniffs suddenly, and I can just sense her face cringing by the way her helium enriched-like voice groaned in disgust. "Eww, Kyon! You stink!" Without hearing any term of endearment from the girl, I finally manage out a proper breath as she stood up and rushed downstairs with a giggle echoing throughout the house. "Kyon's stinky! Kyon's stinky!"

If it weren't for those particular lyrics, I'd actually enjoy the tune to which she sang her declaration toward her unseen audience.

Turning over onto my back to allow for better ease of breathing, I stared up into the ceiling for a moment. The whitish texture flowed about in swirls and waves from following the brush strokes and paint rollers of whoever the painter was.

If it wasn't a school day, then more often than not, I was usually on duty with Haruhi's self appointed SOS Brigade. Even with regular after-school meetings in a classroom that was once the Literature Club's room—to which we've more than filled with junk and miscellaneous paraphernalia that Haruhi probably finds on the street somewhere—that girl would call us out to what I've termed as "Field Trips".

Essentially forays outside of school to appease her taste for "interesting things". It's an expensive taste.

Today's menu included a trip to the ravine, where Haruhi wanted to pan for gold.

"Every club needs funds, and we've yet to have the school give us any! Because of that, we're forced to find our own way to fundraise!" was the girl's explanation of her half-baked plan. I bet we would've gone looking for sunken treasure off the shore, if it were possible.

Despite Koizumi's attempts to curb her enthusiasm toward patience for the next school break, Haruhi insisted that this was "one of those things that couldn't wait." In the end, though, we hadn't found any gold, we were almost caught by an officer for wading about in the cold water, and I managed to go for an impromptu swim in the ankle-deep ravine in order to save Ms. Asahina from falling. Really, not a very "productive" gold search at all.

"Sometimes I want to see you as a girl, Kyon…" was what Haruhi said with a sigh. Koizumi was the one who assisted me out of the water, placing his hands who-knows-where, while the brown haired girl looked at me with an essence of disappointment. Rolling those elusive and ambiguous eyes as if some dastardly plan of hers was foiled, Haruhi had called off the Gold Panning Expedition for the day.

Honestly, I don't know what goes through her mind, sometimes!

The cottony feel of the towel against the nape of my neck is much better than the wrinkled and dirty feel of my shirt collar. The hot water bath I had just minutes ago melted away any retained anguish from the day's events. Tossing the stained and smelly polo shirt and pants into the laundry bin, I make my way back to my room to change into my house clothes.

I pretty much follow a normal schedule all the way to my bed time. Dinner with the family, homework, and some reading; it's as if none of the day's events mattered at all. Well, okay, my body was sore from exertion because of the hard labor, but that wasn't such a big problem.

Already in my pajamas, I fight off my fatigue with lesser and lesser success, just barely flicking off the light switch in my room just before closing the door. Heck, I'm just too tired to wait for my eyes to adjust, but I don't fear bumping my toe against anything tonight. My valiant courage is award with the soft feel of my bed brushing against the blind swipes of my hand, clawing through the darkness like a feeble old zombie.

Climbing into bed, my haggard eyelids shut…only to shoot open with the sound of ringing.

Then again, it wouldn't feel so much as a regular day without the unexpected late night phone call. I know, I know, that makes just as much sense as most webcomic plots. After stumbling over to my side table, realizing that for some reason the phone was out of my normal arm's reach, my hand bumbles about until it feels the porcelain-esque feel of the cordless device blipping with light at regular intervals.

Picking up the receiver to the house phone, I hear shuffling on the other line. "Kyon! It's for me!" my sister's high pitched voice echoes into my ear. With a flinch, I hang up the phone and stagger to back to my bed, half deaf and fully engaged to the idea of sleep now.

Still, it was a bit strange how eager I was to grab at the phone just then. If I were so tired, why would I jump at the chance to take the call even after realizing how troublesome it would be? If it were Haruhi or any of the others, they probably would've called my cell phone, not my home phone.

And while I'm at it, since when had my little sister been so popular? I only hope that she doesn't grow up to be the type of girl that attracts guys like Taniguchi…

…great, now I'm probably going to have nightmares because of that thought…

…that's enough of sleep deprived philosophizing for one night…

My comforter envelops me in warmth as my eyes close for the second time, easing away my previous thoughts as well as distracting me from the imposing idea that school would start again when I woke up in the morning.

A single kick to my side knocks me into consciousness from whatever forgetful reverie that had been playing through my head. If I had any luck at all—which would mean this could only be something to wish for—I was probably dreaming about Mikiru, and how I saved her from being used as a sexual object to bring Haruhi's plans regarding the Computer Club's resources to fruition.

Indeed, a pure conscience knows not the passage of ti-

-Damn it! I thought I was past having my little sister violently waking me up like this! Mumbling with predictable frustration, I take a quick glance with blurry and drowsy eyes to the clock adorning the wall above my door. What the? Five thir-

"Ow!" I experience a third blunt force to my shin and…wait…that was inside my bedcovers…

I roll my head over atop my surely-not-drool-drenched pillow and take a hefty breath of air. Yup. I succeed in breathing. (Go me?). That little ogre of a sister is definitely not jumping all over me, especially not at five in the morning. What's more, now that I think of it…I can feel someone in the bed with me.

I'd normally attribute these strange occurrences to being a dream, but seeing as I've been kicked at least more than twice already, that would more than count as cheek-pinch test, wouldn't you say?

Alright…the moment of truth has come. I carefully move my hand up the bed, careful not to wake the stranger sleeping beside me, in case it were a certain blue haired knife wielding crazy come back from Canada to finish the job she started.

I doubt this is as strenuous as taking a golden idol off of a trap-activating retractable pedestal, but honestly, I almost broke a sweat from carefully bringing my arm to deftly hold onto the hem of my comforter. Slowly, my arm—upturned so as to not brush over toward the other side of the bed—is trembling slightly from the awkward angle it is forced to move in, something that I finally figured out what pull-up motions in P.E. class are good for.

A mass of brown hair is what greets my already awakened self, as a slow tap of adrenaline is all that's kept me going now, and will hopefully keep my empty stomach from growling loudly. I can already tell that the small form isn't my sister. For one thing, she doesn't have as bountiful an amount of hair as the still faceless intruder does, and another is that my sister definitely doesn't wear a negligee to bed.

Suddenly, the girl lying next to me turns over with a grumbling sigh, complaining about it suddenly being cold in-between mumbles. Still, far be it for me to be an expert on the subject, despite my experience with time travelers, aliens, and even ESPers, but…

"No…no, no….no way…"

I really have no other way to describe my surprise!

Author's Notes: Really now, if one were to take a visit to my profile, it's quite obvious what I'm aiming for...

But really, there's a whole slew of reasons why I'm doing this. First off, is when I came across the idea in Baka-Tsuki, which of course was repeated in the SOS Wiki. Turns out it all spawned from the Animesuki forums, and of course, a writer or two from this very website had gotten on the bandwagon (whether they had known about the movement or not).

Still, I hope to be able to bring about a good story; don't be afraid to criticize content-wise (I often forgo formatting problems on account of 's need to forget underlining and group together italicized words...


-The idea has been spurned from above sources, as well as contemplation of my own boredom/Finals stressed mind
-The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is written by Nagaru Tanigawa