She had named the stars. Almost every one, steadily becoming more creative and imaginative as she peered at them through the telescope that Koizumi had procured, while in the background Suzumiya and Asahina gently slumbered and Koizumi chattered meaninglessly to Kyon. It was one of the events she almost begun to look forwards to, after a while. The first hundred nights she had merely recited the names she had read, the names she already knew, but after a while she found a star whose name she could not recall. She had silently named it A. Then more unnamed stars appeared and she had given each one a neatly organised name. When the letters ran out, and the symbols, and the numbers, everything she knew from every language she understood, she began to create new names for the stars. She thought of them, almost meaninglessly, as her stars, and they stood out, as if shining for her. Her stars.
She liked naming the stars. And she would not tell anyone else, but even after the endless recursion of time had ended, she remembered the names, and she used the names. Because they were her stars, and her names. Surely in exchange for those endlessly repeating weeks she could at least have gained this one thing. She had gained the names.
This is a short piece I couldn't get out of my head after I started to think about it. I'm sorry if it's awful but it had to be read. I ended up writing a vaguely related poem. If you're interested there's a link on my profile.
Anyway, I hoped you like this piece.