“The energy value coalescing on me is higher than anticipated. I could use the excess energy to purge memories from our consciousness.”
She had Koizumi’s, the owl’s, and my rapt attention.
“But we must seal all memories from SOS (f), my own included.”
Better than completely erasing them.
“Cut the memories from our minds, compress as a data package. Send the sealed memory data to our real selves as an archive and, once received, freeze them.”
Take out the memories, put them in a box, and lock it. But we’d forget receiving those memories. Memories you couldn’t remember were as good as forgotten.
“Information lost and information unretrievable are fundamentally different.”
“This is proof our current selves lived. Perhaps there will be a time when they can be thawed.”
Koizumi smiled brightly.
“I believe this is the ideal solution.”
Nagato, you’re one hell of a dame. I’ve thought as much before, but lemme do it again.
She waved a hand dismissively.
“I’m currently a god. Also…”
She pulled out a pointy hat.
“An alien witch.”
A goddess witch alien could handle just about anything. Say no more.
If we get outta here, I’m building a Nagato shrine and ensuring all my descendants worship you.
“No, thanks.”
News of Achilles’ death sent ripples through the Greek camp. Agamemnon was white as a sheet, while faceless Menelaus just sort of stood there. The Greeks were in such shock they held a tournament alongside the funeral, insisting it was in his memory. But it wasn’t like the Trojans were doing great, either. The one-man hurricane Achilles had simply done that much damage. Skirmishes continued for a while, and losses mounted on both sides, but the only remarkable death belonged to Paris.
Arguably the cause of the whole war, the handsome youth was struck by a poisoned arrow, never recovered, and expired. A sad sort of death for a leading character. And his death changed almost nothing. Even Helen didn’t seem to care. Her fake love for him had long since cooled.
With no end in sight, the war found one in a surprising manner—yet one you all know.
And since we knew it, the SOS Brigade had no real reason to continue letting them inflict this ancient Greek play on us.
I had things to do. I hadn’t talked to Nagato or Koizumi about it, but even my thoroughly average brain could work this much out.
As I got up, I saw a golden apple rolling around the table. Not sure if this was a hint to take over Paris’s role, but I didn’t care and wasn’t about to play along. This wasn’t about giving that away. Who cared about an inedible apple? None of them would want it, not Haruhi, not Asahina, and not Nagato. And so…
“Take that.”
I grabbed the apple and threw it over my shoulder. Then I left my seat and headed for Haruhi’s throne.
The relief on her seat showed Hercules wrestling a lion, moving like Claymation. One seat over, Asahina was wringing out her handkerchief, eyes locked on the Trojan War play below.
Sick of the impregnable walls, the Greek army had taken desperate measures. They made a giant hollow wooden horse, hid a few dozen Greek soldiers inside, and left it in the field. The rest of the army boarded their ships and sailed away. The Trojans assumed this was a capitulation and dragged the wooden horse inside the walls as spoils of war. Menelaus—who desired Helen’s return more than anyone else—was naturally among the soldiers inside.
Our chief was demonstrating catlike flexibility, sprawled against the lavishly decorated throne, but when my shadow fell on her, she looked my way.
“What’s up, Kyon?” Her fingers reached for the tray the servant girl was holding, plucked a walnut from it, and tossed it in her mouth. “Done with your nefarious scheming?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
We’d been able to wrap things up precisely because she and Asahina had been focused on the play.
Haruhi grinned like a Cheshire cat, peering up at me.
I remembered that fantastical aura Nagato had briefly shown me. The flow of mysterious power so great it had made the old man become Zeus and come here to try to stop it. The chief was still cosplaying as Hera, body and mind—was that immense power still rolling off her?
It had been rising steadily as we toured this world. Energy radiated off her. Nagato had been right; I did have a hunch what caused it.
With Haruhi, it was her thoughts and feelings that produced that mysterious energy.
And I was on the exact same page she was. I wasn’t sure why I was so certain of that—but I was. And Haruhi had a stubborn streak. She didn’t wanna be the one to admit it. Perhaps she hadn’t even consciously realized how she felt.
So I said it for her.
“Say, Haruhi.”
“What?”
“Think it’s time we went home. This isn’t where we belong.”
I—
“I wanna go home.”
No matter how many amusement parks, theme parks, and resorts you hit up in a row, they couldn’t match the place where we’d had the most fun. Compared to the everyday spectacle of the North High literature clubroom, fantasies, space patrols, westerns, and the golden age of piracy were just virtual attractions. Those weren’t our real lives.
I heard cloth swishing and looked down at myself—and I was back in the familiar North High blazer uniform. Yeah, that was what I felt most comfortable wearing.
Haruhi glanced around, then down at her Greek goddess clothes. For a moment, she looked surprised—but she soon worked it out and nodded.
“Yeah, we’ve had our fun. About time we got going,” she said, all smiles. “Mikuru, Yuki, let’s go home!”
“Huh?” Asahina said, like her soul had only just returned from the play onstage. “But we’re at such a good part! I wanna know what happens…,” she murmured.