My first regret, upon successfully cruising through admission to a local public high school, was that the school was situated atop a rather sizable hill. This meant that I found myself trudging up a winding hill, dripping sweat when it was only spring, feeling like I’d already done enough hiking for a lifetime. The fact that I’d have to embark on this uphill trek every day for the next three years depressed me deeply. Though if I stopped to think for a moment, lying in bed until the last second possible might just be the reason my legs were moving so quickly right then. Which meant that if I were to wake up ten minutes earlier, I’d be able to take a more leisurely pace, and the hike wouldn’t be such a pain. Of course, once I factored in how precious those last ten minutes of sleep were, I realized that waking up earlier was simply out of the question. This meant that I would be required to continue the morning workout, which depressed me even more.
And so for the duration of the school commencement ceremony, held in a gratuitously large gymnasium, I, unlike the other new students whose faces shone with hope and anxiety in anticipation of life at a new school, merely looked gloomy. A good number of people from my old middle school were there, and I’d been on pretty good terms with a few of them so I wasn’t too concerned about making friends.
It seemed like an odd combination to have guys in blazers and girls in sailor uniforms. Maybe Principal Toupee up on the podium putting everyone to sleep with his droning sound waves happened to be a fan of sailor uniforms? While I was thinking about this, the trite, monotonous commencement suddenly ended, and I shuffled into my assigned classroom, 1-5, with the rest of my classmates, whose faces I would be seeing for the upcoming year, whether I liked it or not.
Okabe, our young homeroom teacher, took the podium with a million-dollar smile he had probably spent an hour practicing in front of the mirror. He then proceeded to inform us that he was a gym teacher, that he was the handball team’s advisor, that he played for a handball team back in college which got pretty far in the tournament, that the current school handball team was short on members so you were practically guaranteed a spot as a starter upon joining, and that there was no sport in this world as fun as handball. Having apparently run out of things to say after that long-winded speech, he finished with, “Let’s have everyone introduce themselves.”
Well, this was the same old way of kicking things off, and I’d expected as much, so it didn’t exactly come as a surprise.
Starting from the left side of the seating chart, alternating boy-girl-boy-girl, one by one, people stood up and gave their name, the middle school they went to, and an interesting fact (a hobby, favorite food, etc.) about themselves. Some people just mumbled their way through it. Some people sounded completely relaxed. A few told bad jokes which killed any excitement in the room. And all the while, my turn gradually drew closer. Nerve-racking. You know what I mean, right?
Once I had managed to not stumble over the required autobiography I was practicing in my head, I sat back down in my seat, relishing that liberating feeling you get after taking care of business. In turn, the person behind me stood up—yes, I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life—and spoke the words people would be talking about for years to come.
“Haruhi Suzumiya. From East Middle School.”
Everything was still normal at this point. Twisting around to look behind me would have been too much of a hassle, which is why I was facing forward as I listened to her energetic voice.
“I have no interest in ordinary humans. If there are any aliens, time travelers, sliders, or espers here, come join me. That is all.”
That made me turn around.
I found a girl with long, straight black hair decorated with a flashy hair band adorning her perfectly proportioned face as she stared back at the gawking students with unusually large, black, determined eyes adorned with long, fringed eyelashes, her soft pink lips tightly pursed.
I was dazzled by Haruhi’s snow-white skin. A striking beauty stood before me.
Haruhi let her gaze sweep across the classroom, looking like she was trying to pick a fight, before finally glaring at me, gaping at her with my jaw on the floor, then sat down without so much as cracking a smile.
Is this some kind of a joke?
There were probably big question marks in the minds of everyone in the room as they wondered how they were supposed to react. Are we supposed to laugh?
In hindsight, it was neither a joke nor a laughing matter. Haruhi, no matter when or where, is never joking. She is always dead serious.
I learned this the hard way later on so there’s no doubt about it.
Fairies of silence flittered around the classroom for thirty seconds before gym teacher Okabe hesitantly gestured to the next student and the frozen atmosphere finally returned to normal.
And so we met.
I deeply hope that it was mere coincidence.