The Wavering of Haruhi Suzumiya Read Online Free Page B

just slightly husky. “Thank you, Suzumiya.”
    All three girls bowed deeply in gratitude.
    It turned out that practically the whole school (especially the girls) had requested copies of their songs. They said they were now going around to all the classes and distributing minidiscs.
    “I can’t believe how many requests there were.”
    When I heard the figure, I was surprised myself. There’d been quite a ripple effect indeed if people were going to such lengths to get the original songs instead of the one with Haruhi on vocals and Nagato on guitar.
    “And it’s all thanks to you.”
    All three girls had the same grateful smile for their helpful younger classmate.
    “This means our songs won’t have gone to waste. We really appreciate it. You’re something else, Suzumiya. This was going to be our last memory as members of the pop music club, so I wanted to go onstage if I could, but this was way better than missing out entirely. We just can’t thank you enough.”
    It felt a little embarrassing to have three seniors being so grateful, and I wasn’t even the one being thanked. Why do I have to stand here and be embarrassed along with Haruhi?
    “We were hoping we could do something for you in return,” said the leader, but Haruhi waved her off.
    “Don’t worry about it! It was fun for me to sing, and the songs were good, so it was like getting to do karaoke with a live band for free—you don’t need to thank me, really. I’d feel bad.”
    Something about Haruhi’s tone was odd, as though she’d prepared the speech ahead of time—although it was very like her to speak so casually to upperclassmen.
    “So really, don’t bother. If you want to thank someone, thank Yuki. I forced her into doing it, after all.”
    The girls explained that they’d already been by Nagato’s class.
    Evidently, after listening to the girls’ words of gratitude, the stoic Nagato had nodded once, then pointed to this classroom. I had no trouble imagining it.
    “Well then,” said the leader. “We’re going to try to have a concert somewhere before graduation, so you should come if you want. With your…”
    She looked at me and narrowed her eyes just slightly.
    “… friend.”
    But why had there been such demand for the girls’ original recording?
    I’d found this out later. You can’t really call it a mystery, but in any case it had been solved by a certain talkative fellow. He does come in handy, I’ll admit.
    “Did you notice any discrepancy between the timing of Suzumiya and that of the rhythm section? Or more properly, between the melody Suzumiya was singing, Nagato’s riffs, and the bass and drums?” asked Koizumi.
    “It was only noticeable on a subconscious level. All four of them were playing together so well, you’d never guess they were winging it. What’s most surprising is Suzumiya’s ear. Keep in mind she’d only heard the demo tape three times.”
    I wanted to be impressed with Nagato’s professional-level playing as well, but the fact is that kind of thing is easy for her.
    “Yet it wasn’t perfect. Those
were
original songs, after all. There’s simply a huge difference between the performers who wrote those songs and practiced them endlessly and Suzumiya, who performed as an emergency stand-in.”
    Well, obviously.
    “Yes. So between the original bassist and drummer, Suzumiya’s idiosyncratic performance of songs she rushed to learn, and Nagato’s guitar following those idiosyncrasies, there were discrepancies—tiny, but they were there. And as the audience listened, they would feel the tension, if only subconsciously.”
    He was being as plausible as he always was. Do you think anything is possible with enough psychobabble?
    “It’s what I concluded after my analysis. Moving along, then—when they played the second and third songs, the feeling of tension only increased, and then they reached the final song. And what did Suzumiya do then?”
    She’d explained that the real guitarist and