And so, I entered the senior high school in my area.

At that point, I’d already begun to regret this decision. My new school sat on top of a very high hill, and, even in the spring weather, students would become hot and sweaty just from climbing the steep road. Looks like my intent to walk to school in a leisurely fashion wasn’t going to work. Every time that I that this thought rose to my head, along with the fact that I would have to walk up this hill every day for the next three years, I became tired and depressed, which is why I overslept a bit today. I was beating myself over the head for not studying harder in middle school. Had I done so, I might have gotten into a better school not at the top of Mount Everest. (I suppose this is why people in fiction invent time machines.) All of this was just too depressing.

That was the reason for my lone grim face in the, pointless, time-wasting entrance ceremony. Everyone else in the room had that "starting a new journey" look on their face; you know, the unique "hopeful, yet filled with uncertainty" look that every new student wears when they enter a new school. (They look really stupid like that.) As for me, that was not the case — a lot of old classmates from my old junior high school were also coming to this school. Added to that, a few of my friends were also here. As a result, I didn't look as worried, or excited, as other people.

The guys were wearing the more modern sport jackets, and we, the girls, were wearing the traditional sailor uniform, a pretty weird combination. Maybe the snore inducing, boring-as-hell principal giving a speech on the stage had some sort of fetish for sailor uniforms. At this point, I really wished that I had gotten into a school that had business suits as the girl's uniform instead. At least that way I wouldn’t have to look like something from an H-game. Maybe I should organize a petition and get all the other girls to sign it… no, that’d be too much work.

As I was thinking about these useless things, the boring ceremony finally ended, (why do we need to sit through these things again?) and I, along with my not-so-willing new classmates, entered the 1-5 classroom.

Our homeroom teacher, Okabe-sensei, with her practiced-for-an-hour-in-front-of-a-mirror smile, walked to the front of the class and gave a self-introduction. She first said that she was a PE teacher, and was the managing teacher for the girls’ handball team. Then she moved on to stuff like how, back when she was in university, she used to play on the womens’ handball team, and even won the championship, and that this school seriously lacked handball players, so whoever entered the team would become a regular instantly. She sounds really desperate. Guess there’s not much support for the handball team here. She went on to say stuff like how handball was the most interesting sport in all the world and on and on... just when I thought that the mind-numbing handball dialogue would never end, she suddenly blurted out:

"Now, let's introduce ourselves!"

This kind of thing was pretty familiar, though, so I wasn't surprised at all.

One by one, the people on the left side of the class started to introduce themselves. They raised their hand, announced their name, the name of their old school, and other inconsequential stuff, such as a hobby or favorite food. Some people mumbled their way through it, a few had some pretty interesting introductions, while some tried to tell lame jokes that suddenly made the temperature in the classroom drop. As the people in my row started to introduce themselves, my turn was approaching. I was starting to get nervous. Everyone here should understand my feelings, right?

After I managed to finish my carefully planned, minimal-length introduction without faltering over my words too much, I sat down, feeling the relief you get after having finished something unpleasant but necessary.


I probably won’t forget the next few minutes for the rest of my life.


The person behind me stood up for his turn said the words that would be the topic of conversation at North High for quite a long time to come.

"My name is Suzumiya Haruki. I graduated from East Junior High."

Up to this point, the introduction was still normal, still ordinary, so I saw no point in turning around to look at him. I just stared at the front and listened to his deep, clear voice.

"Normal humans do not interest me! If anyone here is an alien, a time traveler, a slider, or an esper, then come! Be my bride! That is all."

What's this… so early in the morning?

Upon hearing something as off-the-wall as that, there’s no way I couldn't help but turn around.

He had dark hair that came down just past his neck. His angular face was filled with daring and challenge as the rest of the class stared at him. His seriousness and zeal shone through his glinting eyes and long eyebrows. His lips were tightly pursed in a frown. All this was my first impression of this guy.

Haruki, with his passionate eyes, scanned the class slowly, stopped to glare at me (I had my mouth wide open), and then sat down and crossed his arms without so much as a smile.

Was he trying to be dramatic?

At that moment, I believe everyone's minds were filled with question marks, and that everyone was confused as to what their reaction to this insanity should be. "Should I laugh?" No one really knew.

Well, I guess he wasn't trying to be dramatic or funny, as Haruki always has that sombre face on.

He is always serious.

This is based on my hindsight—I can't be wrong.

After the mythical fairies of silence danced around the classroom for thirty-something seconds, the homeroom teacher, obviously flustered, signaled the next person to continue, and the tense atmosphere, thankfully, lifted.