on Koizumi’s face, the absence of emotion on Nagato’s face, and the helpless look of resignation to what fate might bring on Asahina’s face, Haruhi waved her arms around and shouted.
“This Saturday! In other words, tomorrow! Meet at 9 am in front of Kitaguchi Station. Don’t be late. If you don’t show, heads will roll!”
Heads will roll, huh?
If you’re wondering what Haruhi planned on doing with the pictures of Asahina in a maid outfit, it was revealed that the damn girl was going to put the pictures in that digital camera on my half-assed Web site.
I noticed this after Haruhi had finished placing a dozen of those pictures in a row on the top page, all set to greet visitors, mere seconds before she was going to upload them into cyberspace.
This would jump the dead access counter up to five digits in a flash.
Are you an idiot?
I had to draw the line here as I desperately stopped Haruhi and deleted the pictures. If Asahina found out that those unbecoming pictures of her in the maid costume in knockout poses had been spread around the world, she’d definitely faint on the spot.
Oddly enough, Haruhi quietly looked at me as I fervently lectured her, but I can’t be sure if she understood what I meant by the dangers of putting personal information that may reveal your identity on the Internet.
“I get it,” she said sullenly before consenting to delete them. In this case, I probably should have deleted all the pictures, but that would be a waste. I created a hidden folder on the hard drive, stored the pictures there, and set a password instead.
I’ll save them for my private viewing pleasure.
CHAPTER 4
Meet at 9 am on a day off? Screw that.
And with that in mind, I pedaled away on my bicycle toward the station, bemoaning how pathetic I was.
Kitaguchi Station is located in the center of the city and is also a central terminal for the train system. On weekends, it tends to be packed with bored young people. Most of them are on their way to larger cities. The only place to go around the station would be the shopping mall. It’s still a big enough crowd to make me think about how each person in the mob has his or her own individual life.
I illegally (sorry) parked my bike in front of the closed bank and reached the north ticket gate five minutes before nine. Everyone had already gathered in silence.
“Late. Penalty!” she said, looking at me.
“I got here before nine.”
“Doesn’t matter if you weren’t late. The last person here gets penalized. That’s my rule.”
“News to me.”
“ ’Cause I just came up with it,” Haruhi said with a cheerful look on her face, wearing a long, brand-name T-shirt and a knee-length denim skirt. “So buy everyone something to drink.”
Haruhi, standing with her hands on her hips in casual attire, felt a hundred times more approachable than when she was in the classroom with a sour look on her face. Bemused, I ended up nodding. Following Haruhi’s instructions to decide on a plan of action for the day, we headed toward the café.
Asahina was dressed in a white sleeveless one-piece dress with a light blue cardigan over it. Her hair was gathered in the back by a barrette, and the way it made her hair bounce up and down as she walked was quite charming. Her smile had the air of a little lady dressing like an adult. She also carried a fashionable purse.
Koizumi stood next to me dressed quite formally in a pink shirt with a brown sports jacket. He even had a dark red tie on. Kind of depressing, but I have to admit he looked sharp. Plus he’s taller than me.
Yuki Nagato silently brought up the end of the line wearing her familiar sailor uniform. It seemed like she’d been completely turned into an SOS Brigade member, but wasn’t she supposed to be in the literary club? After hearing that crazy speech in her quiet apartment the other day, I was even more concerned about the lack of expression on her face. But why was she wearing her uniform on a day
C. J. Cherryh
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