Entitled: Of Fiendish Design
Fandom: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Length: 2,000 words
Disclaimer: I don't own TMOHS and etc.
Notes: There is a reason why this fic exists, and that reason is IB Math 2, which I took in my junior year of high school. It is basically AP Calc and AP Stats squished together into one year. NEVER TAKE THIS CLASS! IF YOU ARE IN IT, DROP IT IMMEDIATELY. IT'S A TRAP!
Summary: So it turns out that Calculus is Haruhi's fault, the ideal murder weapon is now a week-old baguette, and all of this somehow leads to a couple of teenagers and not much clothing. As if anyone's surprised.
"So the imaginary number i to the fourth power creates the real positive, 1. Meaning...?"
Kyon slunk low into his seat as he felt the teacher's eyes inevitably draw towards him. He raised his hand half-heartedly. "Meaning that 1 raised to the 1/4th would be...i?"
There was a pause while the math teacher blew his nose. "Of course not, no matter how many times you take the square root of 1, the answer will still be 1!"
Kyon checked his math text book suspiciously to make sure the professor wasn't drunk. "But...that doesn't make any sense."
"That's why they're imaginary numbers!"
"But what's the point of having something where you can't reverse the process?"
"Kyon," Haruhi reached forwards and tugged sharply on the little hairs at the back of his neck, "Stop being so narrow minded! Don't deny their existence!"
"It makes perfect sense, sensei!" Haruhi crowed. Kyon checked the textbook again, and then the faces of his classmates. They didn't seem to think it made any sense.
And it was then that Kyon had a very, very bad thought.
Calculus was totally Haruhi's fault.
"As to be expected," Koizumi agreed cheerfully while Kyon savagely destroyed him at tic-tac-toe, "The only reason I'm passing is because I read the teacher's mind on test days."
Kyon was forced to rip the paper into very small pieces to adequately express how he felt about the situation. Then, "You can read minds?"
"Only the people I sleep with," Koizumi smiled.
Kyon went back to ripping up the paper.
"Kyon-kun!" Mikuru wibbled around the doorframe, wringing her hands in distress, "I-I-I can't go home!"
Kyon was too busy suppressing his hormones to give this much thought. "That's okay. You can stay here! Take the bed."
"N-No," Mikuru sniffed, "I mean, the future. O-or the past! I mean, my parallel universe! I mean...!" she trailed off, and burst into tears. Kyon snapped out his handkerchief, which he really only carried so that he'd have an excuse to tenderly wipe away Mikuru's luminescent tears. Not that he thought about it, or anything.
"Are we in another time loop?"
"No! Su-Suzumiya-san broke math!"
"W-Well, she wanted it to be more exciting, so she decided to make imaginary numbers and limits that approach infinity and integrals and...!"
Kyon found that the experience was altogether more enjoyable if he stopped listening to what she was saying and just watched her mouth move.
With all of the incomprehensible digit-speak he'd suffered lately, Kyon was almost eager for the weekend to end so that he could track down Yuki and make her explain all of it to him. Or directly implant the information into his head. That would also be nice.
But Haruhi had managed to do more damage than he'd thought.
Yuki was sitting quietly in the corner of the club room, staring at the book in her lap. Kyon let his bag drop carelessly to the floor as he seized a chair, swung it around, and plopped down before her. Yuki ignored him.
"Yo, Nagato," Kyon smiled sheepishly, "Would you mind tutoring me in math?"
There was a terribly long silence. Kyon began to sweat.
"Why don't you try finding the square root of a negative number with your calculator?" Koizumi's voice said, from just behind him. Kyon found it necessary to fall out of his chair.
"You are going to be arrested someday, I'm serious."
"Oh, what a pity. How would I spend time with you then?"
Kyon's skin crawled.
"ERROR!" Mikuru bleated from behind them, and the two boys looked back at her tearful face in confusion. She held up a calculator for them to see, and they read the screen in silence.
"I don't mean to offend Nagato-san, but her behavior isn't remarkably different."
"She's broken?" Kyon exploded, and snatched the book away from Yuki, who went on staring at exactly the same spot. Mikuru quivered sadly. Koizumi sighed.
"I should have expected as much. Suzumiya-san has reprogrammed the universe, and Nagato-san was built to function on a different code."
Kyon shook Nagato's shoulder gently, and her head rocked grotesquely. Mikuru made a noise of distress.
"K-Kyon-kun," she set a little hand against his shoulder, and looked upon him with shining eyes. Kyon's heart rate accelerated. Mikuru's chin lifted bravely, "You have to save Nagato-san!"
"Indirectly reopening the channels of time and space," Koizumi muttered in the background. Kyon sent him a withering look.
"But how do we—"
"Simple," Koizumi took his position against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning back with a snap, "Whatever Haruhi believes to be correct shall become so. You will simply have to convince her."
"You. You are the only one with the power to change Suzumiya-san's mind. She won't make a reality that you don't approve of."
Kyon glared, and scoffed, and huffed, and crossed his arms. "It really pisses me off when you go implying things like that."
"I'm not implying anything. As I have said before, I can read the minds of—"
"You're doing it again!" Kyon glared, and took a deep breath, "Okay, fine. Anyone got any ideas on how I'm supposed to go about with this plan?"
Koizumi tapped a finger against to his chin, "I would recommend sexual favors."
After five minutes of very serious contemplation Kyon reached the inevitable conclusion: for the sake of his math grade and the universe, he would have to sleep with Haruhi. It made perfect sense. There was simply no getting around it, and all other plans were only meaningless attempts at delaying the inevitable.
"That doesn't make any sense," Mikuru whimpered, and nibbled on her biscuit. Koizumi chuckled, and sipped his tea, pinkie raised.
"Don't ever talk to me again," Kyon recited, monotone, and continued to do his composition homework. He studiously avoided thinking about the plan Koizumi had just outlined on the grounds that; a, Koizumi was a creep, and, b, he didn't really know how to go about seducing anyone in the first place.
"A perfect night on the town," Koizumi instructed, voice sounding a bit wistful, "With a decidedly Parisian feel. Baguettes, poetry, and decadence! There are no people who know how to love as the French do."
"I really, honestly believe that you have a psychological disorder," Kyon noted.
"Of course, considering my awesome psychic powers, I have already anticipated this event coming to pass, and set about collecting your supplies last week!" Koizumi then rose from his chair, strode to the closet, and threw it open with a flourish. Kyon absolutely refused to even look in that maniac's general direction. Mikuru, ever accommodating, gave a little fluttering gasp of appreciation.
"You actually got French bread? Oh, my!"
"Oh, for god's sake," Kyon seethed, and shoved himself roughly backwards from his desk. He strode to the closet, seized the long, skinny loaf, and swung it unapologetically at Koizumi head.
The other boy dropped like a stone.
"You idiot!" Kyon yelled, at Koizumi's prone form, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Add it to my rock collection!"
"K-Kyon-kun," Mikuru hiccuped, her eyes shining and very wet. Kyon threw down the bread immediately, and whipped out his trusty handkerchief yet again. He'd added a subtle amount of manly cologne to it for this round.
"Rebooting systems," Yuki's voice came softly from the corner, and Mikuru squeaked when the other girl abruptly got to her feet, chin lurching up so that her face was pointed towards the ceiling. Her mouth and eyes were both wide open, and she appeared to have ceased breathing. Several seconds later, Yuki gave a great sigh, and slumped back into her seat.
"Recoding is complete. Fully operational, probability of error in deductive reasoning is .00003 percent."
Kyon and Mikuru exchanged bewildered glances.
"I understand," Yuki resumed, almost tranquil now, "The universe is different now. Not everything can be undone, or approached backwards. All is uneven. We lack equivalent counterparts."
"U-Um..." Mikuru wavered uncertainly near the teapot. "Would you like a cup of...?"
"Yes, please," Yuki replied, tranquil as she lifted her book to her face, "Sorry to worry you."
Kyon waited a beat, "Does this mean I don't have to seduce Haruhi into doing my math homework?"
Yuki studied him briefly, "I fail to understand."
"I didn't get it either," Kyon admitted, stepped over Koizumi, and returned to his homework, not even a little bit disappointed.
"GREETINGS, MINIONS!" Haruhi shouted, and blasted into the club room, totting several very large shopping bags. Her head swiveled and her eyes locked onto Mikuru like a magnet. "Mikuru, time to change."
Mikuru cheeped with fear.
Kyon brooded over Haruhi's waist, thighs, and the terrifying enormity of her eyes. And he continued not to be disappointed. Because he had never even entertained the idea in the first place. Because he firmly believed Koizumi to be an idiot, and so considering the plan of an idiot was a study in lunacy.
Also, Haruhi was more crazy than she was hot.
Also also, he didn't care.
Kyon's fit of teenage apathy was disturbed by one very feminine whimper.
And so he withdrew himself from the throes of passionate disinterest to regard the interesting new development.
Mikuru, now sporting what looked like a cross between medieval armor and a string bikini, dropped her riding crop onto the floor and cried. Kyon took this in for a moment. Just to fully understand the situation, of course.
"Haruhi," he began, and stopped. It seemed he lacked sufficient words.
"Mikuru! Stop crying! You are a strong and jaded woman! You only cry when you are alone, gazing wistfully upon the moon!" Haruhi finished her tirade with an exasperated sigh as Mikuru hid behind her hands and continued to sniffle. "Yes, Kyon?"
"What is she supposed to be, exactly?"
"A prostitute, fool!"
"Ah," Kyon bit down on the edge of his thumbnail, watching Mikuru quiver. "You're right. Why take the roundabout method with today's market?"
"Precisely!" Haruhi clapped. Mikuru bent to retrieve her riding crop, lost her balance, tottered for a moment in her ridiculously dangerous heels, and fell over into an appropriately compromising position.
Kyon savored the moment.
It made his inevitable failure of next week's math test slightly more bearable.