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Haruhi swished a glass of red wine in her hand while peering up at the nebulas above and the clouds below. She attempted to focus, to find a reason to remember this day, as opposed to all the rest. She had to close her eyes to see the fullness of her thousands of years, her original mortal life only a small portion. Mentally, she unwound the time it had taken to reach this place, an asteroid on the edge of the solar system called New Olympus.
She remembered her original life and all that had happened. She thought of her friends and her loves and her confusion and her fear and her desperation. She remembered, now, things she had forgotten then: time loops, reality collapsing, her first kiss. When the old gods died, and the universe was recreated.
To Haruhi, that was something like Chapter One. The rest of the book was still to be written, with no end in sight. That was how she liked it. She remembered the start of her Chapter Two, when she awoke in a formless realm of constantly shifting colors and sounds. She remembered battles and negotiations with entities stranger than anything she could imagine. She remembered crafting this body, the body of a goddess, beautiful, young, shapely, just as she liked herself to be. She remembered pushing through the membrane of the material world and announcing herself: Hi, I’m Haruhi, the goddess of chaos. I have no interest in ordinary humans.
The ordinary humans had proven themselves rather adept in the time that had come since her divine rebirth. Their technology had progressed, and they’d managed not to wipe each other out, close calls aside. New Olympus was here on the outside of the solar system, the gods, for the most part, staying out of the way. In the past, mankind had not taken kindly to gods interfering in their affairs. At first, Haruhi’s pantheon allowed them to grow, change, fail, and succeed on their own.
After a few centuries of godhood, the desire to meddle was replaced by a desire to connect. Haruhi remembered growing up in a lonely world with no gods. She had been so full of love, she’d created her own. She’d sent the major and minor gods back out into the world and they had settled all over the solar system, and some further beyond.
Now, she was here, wine in hand, watching the universe rotate beneath her behind a Doric column. She had her handmaidens and attendants and many fellow gods who had decided to stay, or had since returned. Her entities of chaos — her “pets” she liked to say — stayed here, in service to their queen. It had been some time since she’d left. There was so much to observe, and to create, and to destroy, here, that she hadn’t been bored. Only now, did she wonder if she was lonely.
Her diaphanous white gown trailed behind her, and her gold jewelry glinted under the light of celestial phenomena, as she walked the grounds of New Olympus. She wore a maroon-purple cape the color of some section of the cosmos and enjoyed as the air, or whatever passes for air on an asteroid home for gods, lifted it up and behind her like a pair of wings. She felt her bare feet on the dewy grass, and wondered if it was time for a change.
She caught sight of her lover — one of many — Ryo, the god of love. He was, not unusually, nude, showing off his massive musculature. She could tell from the hint of redness around his midsection that he’d been making love. Of course, that was his job.
“Hello, darling,” she said, touching his bare back and chest.
“Give me just a minute, babe, to recover… actually just a second, because god damn, you look good,” he said, staring at her, and especially taking time to gaze at her chest.
“I look the same as I have for thousands of years, love,” she said. “Give or take.”
“You could embrace your full chaos powers, and look however you like,” Ryo said.
“I could, but I won’t,” Haruhi said. “Not right now. Not for you. Because I know you like this form the best.”
“The best of all,” Ryo said, and kissed her hands. He looked into her beautiful brown eyes, and saw the cosmos.
“You’ll have lifetimes with me,” she said. “But… I think it might be time for me to take a trip.”
“Ah,” Ryo said, and he self-consciously let his erect cock tip downward so as not to dominate the conversation as it did his own thoughts. “It has been some time, I suppose.”
“A year or so,” Haruhi said. “Earth year. Still makes the most sense to me. I miss them. I miss him.”
Ryo stroked her beautiful brown hair. “Then it’s time,” he said. “Don’t travel alone.”
“I won’t,” she said. She touched his handsome face, perfectly symmetrical, masculine, and handsome. She leaned up and gave him a deep kiss.
“Spend time with the minor goddesses, for me,” she said. “Some time with the goddesses of denial and control would do you good.”
“Oh… how about right now?” he said, and the excitement showed, not only on his face.
“Right now,” she said. “Go on. And see how long you can last without me.” Another kiss.
“I love you,” Ryo said.
“You love everyone. It’s a requirement,” Haruhi said.
“So is being chaotic, for you,” he said as he ran off.
“So it is,” Haruhi said. She finished her wine and the glass blinked out of existence.
She clapped her hands twice and out of the thin air, like ink in water, emerged a dark skin mass of slimy tentacles and razor teeth. Haruhi gestured with two fingers together and it transformed into a sleek-looking spaceship. A door opened, with stairs leading up. Behind her came three attendants, who all wore black that matched the creature-ship in front of them. One, an androgynous person with dark hair and beautiful blue eyes; another, a very tall, very pale man; and finally, a curvy young woman whose long hair was in shades of black and white, and whose eyes shone like a tiger’s in the night.
“Okay, my chaoslings, we’re going to take a little trip. Think you can keep me entertained on the way?” she said. She grinned, knowing the answer already. She swished her cape around, wrapping it over her body as if for warmth.
“Where are we going, my lady?” said the androgynous one.
“To see the SOS Brigade, of course” Haruhi said. “Where else?”
* * *
The creature-ship warped through chaos-space in what might have been no time at all. It was only enough time for Haruhi to enjoy herself with whatever she and the chaoslings got up to on these journeys. They landed at their first stop, Io, a moon of Jupiter. The planets kept their old names, the last tribute to the gods who had lived and died before them.
Haruhi conjured up a bottle of wine and carried it with her as they approached a clock tower that jutted out from the yellowish rocky surface. With another of her gestures, Haruhi summoned one of her pets, a pale worm-like creature with many legs and a happy-looking face.
“Let’s take the stairs, little one,” she said, and she rode on its back during the long crawl upward. At the top of the stairs was a massive room full of gears and mechanisms that kept the large clocks on each side of the tower running. In one corner, in a crimson wizard’s robe, was a young-looking woman with bright red hair. Haruhi cleared her throat.
“Mikuru?” she said, hoping that was enough. Suddenly, the other woman turned around to look.
“Haruhi!” she said. She bounced over, and the two embraced, and kissed. Slow at first, then fast, and hot.
“Mmm,” Haruhi said. “I certainly missed that. And… this…” Haruhi gestured at Mikuru’s impressive chest, partially exposed by the blouse she had underneath her cloak.
“Oh, you would,” Mikuru said, and playfully swatted at Haruhi’s shoulder. “You have a few things I’ve missed too, you know!”
“Yes,” Haruhi said. “And there is time for that. First… share a glass?” She held up the wine bottle.
“Time. That there is,” Mikuru said, laughing.
They shared their drink in a side room at a humble wooden table. All around them were books, clocks, and tools for tinkering.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with whatever’s wrong here, but I was glad you were nearby, on Io. I’m headed for… well, you know,” Haruhi said.
“I can guess,” Mikuru said. “He’ll be so happy to see you. Is it a surprise, like for me?”
“Would the goddess of chaos do anything less?” Haruhi said. They shared a laugh.
“And the goddess of time seems to always be running out,” Mikuru said, with genuine sadness.
“No, no,” Haruhi said. “You’re keeping us on track. The great gears of the universe need you, just like this clock.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s lonelier than I ever anticipated. But Tsuruya is waiting for me, on Ganymede. We have more tasks to attend to. A starship crew uncovered an old alien time travel device again…”
“Oh, that thing? I thought we buried that for good two hundred years ago, or whenever it was. When we fought Draconicus, I think it was,” Haruhi said.
“They always pop up again. I’ve had to fix things a few times. I don’t mind if people travel a bit, but too much and they threaten my domain. Even a paradox or two, I can manage, but…” Mikuru said, trailing off. They both looked out the window at an erupting volcano in the distance.
“Did you ever think…” Mikuru said, shaking her head and covering her face before she finished.
“Go ahead,” Haruhi said, with a smile.
“No, you’ll tease me!” Mikuru said.
“Oh, and not saying it, that’ll stop me?” Haruhi said.
“I was going to say, did you ever think, back in the clubroom, we’d ever be here, but that’s a silly question,” Mikuru said.
“It is. I never thought we would. But I wanted it. And we are,” Haruhi said. “You, though. I knew you were a goddess the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Oh, stop,” Mikuru said. “I was pretty, and had nice boobs, but…”
“You were, and are, perfect,” Haruhi said. “And if you were a goddess back then, I didn’t do right by you. I still deserve some righteous punishment for how I treated you.”
“No, we’re past that. Although, if it’s punishment you want…” she said, with a wicked smile. “That ship of yours has a bedroom, yes?”
“Indeed. And a whole weapon’s locker of supplies. Perhaps a paddle?” Haruhi said.
Mikuru held up a gold pocketwatch. “What do you say to an extra hour or two, just for us? Where the whole world stops,” she said.
“Make it three. And don’t be gentle,” Haruhi said. Mikuru smiled that small, cute, genuine little smile that had made Haruhi’s heart break a thousand times.
* * *
Three hours (subjective time) and a few minutes (objective time) later, after a flurry of goodbye kisses, Haruhi, the chaoslings, and the worm all left on the creature-ship. Haruhi wondered if her attendants had enjoyed themselves in their brief downtime. She noticed a few telltale hairs out of place and a contented blush on at least two of their faces. She was a good boss, she thought to herself, and hummed quietly as she floated effortlessly around the ship’s cabin.
Warping through chaos-space was fast, and only occasionally terrifying. Usually it was a swirling purple vortex of forms and colors, with the occasional crackling firework of light as you passed. Chaos creatures had their way of emerging, but she was in no danger here. This was her domain. They worshipped her, and rightly so. The chaos gave her form again, and she tamed it. She looked out the window, and saw blue humanoid giants riding on the back of a creature you might call a dragon, pounding on it. It was almost violent, but there seemed to be no rush, no heart in it.
“Chaos” suggested to many people violence, mayhem, destruction. There was that. But chaos was also reversal, change, evolution, chance, luck, small changes that added up to big ones. Haruhi had all these tools at her disposal.
She spun her fingers loosely, rotating her wrist, until a tiny glowing pink ember of energy emerged. She recalled the time, long ago, when someone taught her some of these tricks. She moved her fingers like she was gliding an ice cube along a wooden table, just a gentle, considered push. Her pink energy flameblob sailed through the hull-plate of the creature-ship and into the fighting creatures, who were suddenly shook off like a dog shaking off rain. The dragon slipped back into the walls of the void itself. Perhaps, on the way home, some more time here in her realm would be wise.
* * *
They warped out of chaos-space. Haruhi realized her attendants were busy with each other. She allowed them the luxury of staying, because she would be well-taken care of here. They’d emerged in the airspace above Mars, far into the Martian desert, home of a stone temple that wouldn’t look out of place in New Olympus, at least the regions that kept the traditional architecture. Outside, fit-looking young people were doing what looked from a distance like martial arts practice, and in a sense, was. But look closely and one could see the students paired off. Some pairs stood unmoving, staring at one another. Others moved constantly, whipping their limbs with free-floating moving objects around them. Still others pushed at each other and off the ground, floating, at least for a time.
The Academy was the most important place in the solar system for telepaths and other psychics. One of Haruhi’s little gifts to the universe was making psychic powers exponentially more common. By now, about twenty-five percent of humans had some degree of measurable telepathic or telekinetic ability.
On the low end, that might mean exceptionally good intuition or planning ability. On the high end, immense powers to read and influence minds, to control objects, and more, much more powerful even than Itsuki in his mortal life. The positive and negative effects of this had made themselves known over the centuries. Chaos, Haruhi thought.
Haruhi landed well outside the grounds and walked over, attendants, worms, and other beings trailing behind. The students made a path without being told. A goddess was recognized, even when not being worshipped. She waved and smiled to those who were confident enough to make eye contact.
Being who she was, she was used to the attention, finally. In her mortal life, she was always torn between wanting more — voraciously, greedily, obsessively wanting more — and needing to be left alone. Now, it was a simple thing. She had no shortage of people desperate for her, and nothing but time for herself. Immortality had spoiled her for time, and she had to work, actively, to appreciate her infinite second chances.
They didn’t have to walk far to find what they were looking for. Tucked into one corner of the academy grounds, next to an artificial lake (they all were, of course) one side and a rocky cliff on the other, was the chapel. Sometimes used for worship, but usually the resident of the Academy’s god-in-residence, Itsuki: god of secrets, lies, stories, and games. He was on the second floor.
“Go mingle, loves,” Haruhi said, dismissing her retinue for the moment. She floated up to the second story balcony, arms out, skin aglow in the Martian sun. She spotted her old friend standing there, in simple deep blue monk’s robes. He had a bare shoulder and bare feet. His hair was longish, and beautiful.
“There you are,” she said. She glided down to meet him, the hardwood floor warm beneath her feet. She watched as the third eye, a glowing blue sigil, disappeared from his forehead, and he smiled.
“Haruhi,” he said. “All the way from New Olympus just to meet me?”
“You’re on the way,” she said.
“Ah,” Itsuki said.
“I can’t believe even gods can get jealous,” Haruhi said. “No matter how long it’s been.” She took one hand, and then the other, and the two of them swayed lightly. Their fingers intertwined, and moment by moment, they joined, until they were embraced.
“I seem to recall a hundred years just for us,” Haruhi said. “Honing your powers, saying everything you needed to say to me. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
“Our honeymoon? How could I? And I spent the next hundred with Kyon, here on Mars,” Itsuki said.
“Quite a change from Thanabraxas,” Haruhi said, the chaos-space planet where she and Itsuki had spent their century of isolation.
“Not always a positive one. For one, I missed you,” Itsuki said.
“You always want what you don’t have,” Haruhi said. “Think of how many beings out there in the world would give anything for that time? With me or Kyon? For a tiny fraction of it? Spoiled brat.” She playfully slapped his shoulder, and almost immediately melted into a deep kiss.
She pulled him closer, and they almost went horizontal, already.
“Do you still have that hot tub here? For… what was it? Spiritual practice and meditation?” Haruhi said, and smiled.
* * *
Haruhi soaked in the tub, all the way up to her shoulders, feeling it soak deep into her skin. She watched as Itsuki undressed thoroughly, and slipped in himself. They were surrounded by brown wood, red Martian sand, and the approaching night. Night was chaos-time, and story-time, where things changed. Life’s normal course was reversed, lies became true, old lovers joined again.
“You’re magnificent,” she said, beholding his body. Just like her, he’d created it to his specifications, his ideal form, when he was born again into godhood. She appreciated it a great deal. She spread her hands over his chest, back, and arms, appreciating each muscle.
“It’s a bit unfair to work on making your mind so powerful, when you already have a body like this, the envy of anyone,” she said.
“I could say the same to you, chaos-witch supreme and still looking like you do,” Itsuki said.
“Why don’t we just agree that we’re all hot, and that’s one of the inarguable privileges of godhood?” Haruhi said.
“Among many other things…” Itsuki said.
“Yes, precisely. So appreciate these things.”
“I do.” They kissed, and sunk beneath the water until long after Phobos and Deimos had passed overhead.
* * *
An entire day on Mars, nearly twenty-five hours, passed before Haruhi was ready to move on. She seemed to be attracting more and more followers everywhere she went. She didn’t know where half of the newest passengers on the creature-ship had come from, nor who they were, but all was well. They were willing to venture through chaos-space with the queen of that realm, where no one would dare go unless they were devoted to the cause. Some, surely, just needed a ride somewhere. A goddess’ chariot could be whatever she chose, including public transit. Fly with me, beautiful souls.
Their next destination was the moon, and specifically, the Lunar Library. Itsuki was famous for his association with the Academy, but how many people knew that Yuki, goddess of wisdom, had been the patron and chief librarian here for years? She was the founding chief librarian, in fact, and only let others manage it while she explored her own origins.
She’d returned from that experience changed. She’d found her creator, the creator of her mortal form, the living computer entity that took an interest in Haruhi, deep in outer space. Haruhi had never been entirely clear on what happened next, but the reverberations could be felt even deep in chaos-space. Ultimately, Yuki merged, or absorbed, the Date Integrated Thought Entity. She ascended to some higher dimensions for a time, before returning. She missed books. It was as simple as that. Now, Data Integrated Machine Goddess Yuki was back in her librarian perch. The Lunar Library was one of several moon megastructures, colonies, supercities, and installations. As the closest outpost, of course, it had seen the bulk of mankind’s development. They’d done much of it without the help of gods. With their help, who knew how far they would go?
Of course, Yuki would always return here, Haruhi thought. She lived and died for the written word. There were hundreds of thousands of books here, of all kinds, in all languages, from all eras. Academics, scribes, patrons, researchers, and employees, moved about, quietly, of course, all around her. Only a few even noticed she was there, or who she was.
For once, Haruhi’s natural senses failed her. She approached the first desk she saw. “Excuse me… I’m looking for Yuki? The head librarian,” Haruhi said.
“We don’t usually address her by— oh! My lady, I apologize,” said the librarian. Haruhi waved her hand.
“Stop, stop,” she said. “Goddesses and spirits walk the Earth. I’ve had enough of being treated like a big deal. Yuki feels the same, I bet. Have you ever asked if she only wants to be called ‘the Head Librarian’?”
“Well… I guess not,” the librarian at the desk said. “I’ll call her.”
“Thank you,” Haruhi said. She smiled that proud smile, like she’d broken a code.
She didn’t have time to say anything more when a figure glided down to her. It was Yuki, looking mostly how she normally did these days. She had made herself look about forty, with a serious and stable bearing. She wore a futuristic looking jumpsuit made of impossible fabrics, with an equally futuristic jacket on top. Stylish, elegant, academic. She’d taken, ever since returning with the Thought Entity attached to her, to wearing glasses again.
“Yuki,” Haruhi said.
“Hello,” Yuki said. She took Haruhi’s hand, and her mouth shifted imperceptibly. “I thought you might come.”
“Word gets around, does it?” Haruhi said.
“Information travels at the speed of thought,” Yuki said.
“Faster than through chaos-space…” Haruhi said, ruefully. “Could we talk privately?”
“Yes. Come with me,” Yuki said. The two of the flew in their simple style, floating up a few stories and gliding into Yuki’s private study.
“Nice office,” Haruhi said.
“Study. My office is downstairs. This is not for work,” Yuki said. With a wave of her hand, the fireplace at one end of the room lit up. Now, Haruhi could see that the books in this room were clearly some of the most well-read in the collection. There was a large armchair, a loveseat, a drink cart, and a wall of… specimens? Collectibles? Mementos? Haruhi wasn’t precisely sure.
“Speaking of work, how goes your other project? I suppose if you had cracked fully sentient autonomous machine life, I’d have heard of it by now,” Haruhi said.
“I suspect so. There’s been progress. But it is difficult. Emotions do not come so cleanly,” Yuki said.
“No, not for mortals, gods, spirits, or anyone else,” Haruhi said. “Everyone I’ve talked to has some… insecurity, some anxiety, something nagging at them. Regrets, or fears. I remember, a long time ago, I thought we’d solved all our problems. I just wanted to share it with everyone. If gods are real, mortality should be obsolete.”
“An immortal machine race could, then, be considered an upgrade,” Yuki said.
“That’s one way to see it,” Haruhi said. “All this and we still haven’t truly found life on other planets, besides your kind. And they’re all… here, now, aren’t they?”
“In one way, or another, yes,” Yuki said. She turned to look at one specific specimen jar on the shelf. It contained a blood-stained knife. No need to dwell on it, Haruhi thought.
“What about Ryoko? I don’t suppose…” Haruhi said.
“No. Not yet,” Yuki said. “My tools may never be sufficient to give her a stable and happy life again.”
“I’d like to see it. A chance to be normal,” Haruhi said. “In this universe.”
“My visits to the other worldlines have proven helpful,” Yuki said. “There is another where our pantheon achieved what we have, and she is among us.”
“Strange to imagine,” Haruhi said. “Everything could be so different, and wind up in the same place. ‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood’…”
Yuki touched Haruhi’s hand.
“Haruhi,” Yuki said.
“Yes, love?” Haruhi said, gently cupping the other woman’s face.
“Would you read to me?” Yuki said.
“Yes. What would you like to hear?” Haruhi said, already picking a few hefty volumes off the shelf. She sat in the heavy armchair, and Yuki laid down, flat on her back, head on a pillow, and listened.
* * *
The next morning, Haruhi could have sworn that Yuki actually fell asleep for a few moments, something she rarely did anymore. Haruhi herself enjoyed sleep and made sure to save some time to enjoy it amid her busy schedule. Haruhi read a substantial portion of the book Yuki had picked out, a novel in verse called Eugene Onegin. Even with higher celestial awareness, Haruhi only partially understood what she had been reading. The language was beautiful, and she liked to learn more about the time period. There was, always, always, so much to learn. Ten thousand years wasn’t enough time.
That was the thought on her mind when she readied the final jump, for a while, of the creature-ship through chaos-space. Now, she had a whole caravan behind her, like a fleet admiral storming into enemy territory with her forces arrayed. But there would be none of that, just exploration. She would be here, a while, and dismiss everyone. It would always be possible to meet up again.
“I wonder what he’ll think,” Haruhi said, standing on the bridge, when they warped back into linear space. She could see Earth, the skeletal chain of satellites and colonies around them already. Why even land, she thought, when she could step out into space and just waft down?
Her tall attendant with the pale skin leaned nonchalantly against a wall behind her. His dark clothes almost blended tino the background in the dimly-lit room.
“He’ll be madly in love with you,” he said. “As much as everything’s changed, not everything has.”
Haruhi let all the passengers disembark when the ship when they came aground on the Earth’s surface. She summoned a creature that looked a bit like a glowing blue jellyfish, and rode on its back to her destination, alone.
She found him in a place one might have suspected, Japan. Not anywhere near a city, but in some remote corner of rural farmland, working the fields. She remembered something he said to her, thousands of years ago: “Gods are not magic.” The work still had to be done. It was easier to help people like this, one at a time, she’d realized. Not that her responsibilities allowed her terribly many opportunities to “help” people.
She floated down, and felt a rumbling in her stomach, like always. There was Kyon, god of reason, order, structure, agriculture, and architecture. The planner. The good voice in your head. The practical one. Haruhi was there to tempt you with “what if”s, and Kyon was there to tell you “why not.” This is why they both must exist.
He looked beautiful. His skin was olive-toned and kissed by the sun. He looked about twenty-nine, dignified, normal. The only concession to his true status on his body was his set of perfectly-toned muscles, more sizable and impressive than anything he’d had in his mortal life. Haruhi wouldn’t dream of complaining about that, of all things.
“Kyon,” she said, simply, and waited for him to turn around. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to be having fun?”
He turned around, and tried to play it cool, but his face betrayed an aching longing in his heart. “This is fun, for me,” he said. “These folks are farming the traditional way… mostly. I come by and do some of the physical work… it’s good for me.”
“I’m sure it is. The truth is, you like it. You’ve always liked it. Taking care of people,” she said.
Kyon stuck his shovel in the ground and wiped some sweat from his face. Dirt stuck to him, and when he pulled off his heavy farming gloves, sweat from his hands misted into the air. Haruhi could almost taste it.
“I suppose I do,” Kyon said. “Good thing I’ve got a lot of time to do it.”
“All the time in the world,” Haruhi said.
“I thought you might show up,” Kyon said.
“You could feel my vibe in the air?” she said.
“I have sometimes, but not lately. Itsuki sent me this,” he said. Kyon put his palm out flat, and out popped a glowing ball of spiky red lightning. It cracked open in a physics-defying motion and something like a hologram appeared. It was Itsuki cheerfully explaining that Haruhi would probably visit soon, and not to be alarmed.
“God, you all talk to each other behind my back!” Haruhi said.
“Some things never change,” Kyon said. “Besides, when I mentioned it to Mikuru, she said…”
“Did she now? Because that girl doesn’t kiss and tell, but I do, so, if you want to know about it, you can,” Haruhi said.
Kyon smiled, genuinely amused and even, somewhat, touched. “Tell me later,” he said. “I want to make some memories just for us, first.”
“Oh, you do?” Haruhi said. She approached closer and closer until she was right next to him, the train of her white toga floating in the air and evading dirt. She touched Kyon’s chin, stroking one finger along it. “Hairless. I like that. The beard phase was interesting, but… not to my taste,” she said.
“I kinda miss your hair experiments,” Kyon said. “Blonde was… interesting.”
Haruhi smirked. “If it’s blondes you want, I can introduce you,” she said.
“I think you know what I want,” Kyon said.
“No. Show me,” Haruhi said. Almost before the words left her lips, Kyon, divine, beautiful, gorgeous Kyon, went to her, scooped his arm around her back, and dipped her backwards for a deep, passionate, moaning kiss.
“I want that. Always. Every moment,” he said. His face broke the seriousness for a second. “I’ll never quite be the perfect guy for you, who can say that without flinching, but—“
“You said it,” Haruhi said. “That’s enough.” She kissed him again.
“Is it enough? After everything we’ve been through… I wonder, sometimes, still, if I’m enough for you. If I can fill that need you have,” Kyon said. “The need for the universe to be special.”
“If you can fill it? The only thing there’s not enough of in the universe, is you,” Haruhi said. Another kiss.
“Really? A hundred years just us, that wasn’t enough? And all the time since?” Kyon said.
“No. It’ll never be enough,” Haruhi said.
“You’re here to say for a while, aren’t you?” Kyon said.
“If you’ll have me.”
“I would love to. I keep a humble home, will you be alright with that?”
“Good. It’ll be just like the old days. Books, board games, a computer, and us,” she said.
“Not just like the old days,” he said.
“Oh, yes, there are a few advantages now, aren’t there?” More kissing, with reckless abandon.
* * *
“Humble” was a good choice of words. Kyon lived in, essentially, a small apartment, nestled in between other buildings. Even in a rural area like this, surrounded by farmland, development continued. People lived out here and commuted hours to work other places, even in today’s day and age. The most ambitious, of course, left for other planets and living situations.
The bottom floor had the kitchen and the bathroom. Upstairs was a slim little “living room,” and a bedroom. The bedroom was one big, comfortable bed. Big enough for four people, if you really squeezed, Haruhi thought.
“Should I tempt you? Remember all the things we used to do? Bunnygirl outfits, tight little skirts, sundresses… you just loved to take them off, one stitch at a time,” Haruhi said.
Kyon delicately touched her arms, feeling the diaphanous white fabric between his fingers.
“Won’t there be time for that?” Kyon said. “Right now… I think the old-fashioned way, would do.”
Haruhi spun around and smirked at him. “Oh, there’s nothing old-fashioned about the way I do it. Don’t you remember?” she said.
“Remind me,” Kyon said. Haruhi snapped her fingers on each hand, and her dress disappeared into a mist, and she pushed Kyon back onto his bed.
Haruhi floated above him, beautiful, naked, perfect. “You were right,” he said.
“About what?” Haruhi said, in mid-air.
“There’ll never be enough time,” he said.
“Enjoy every second,” she said. “For ten thousand years.”
She descended on her lover, two divine bodies in perfect harmony.
