The Sigh of Haruhi Suzumiya by Nagaru Tanigawa

hold the pistol (it’s just a model) in her hands.
    “Act like you’re a female assassin. And make sure people can tell you’re from the future.”
    Just a few of her unreasonable requests. Asahina timidly held the Glock as she glanced sideways at me—the camera—as best as she could. Gotta love how you can feel her pushing herself, yeah. No, I’m serious.
    In any case, that freak sure is unnecessarily active. I’ve seen plenty of bad movies, and I’ve never thought that I could do a better job so I should make my own film. I wouldn’t know how to go about making one anyway. Even if I were to make my own film, I don’t entertain the notion that it would be any good. But it would appear that Haruhi seriously believes she has the talent to be a director. At the very least, it’s pretty certain that she intends to make something better than those minor films on late-night TV. What exactly does she have to support all that confidence?
    Haruhi was yelling as she waved the yellow megaphone around.
    “Mikuru! Act less embarrassed! Forget who you are! You just need to become your role! You are no longer Mikuru Asahina! You are Mikuru Asahina!”
    … Of course, we already knew that there was no basis for Haruhi’s confidence. Causing chaos in natural order with groundless confidence was an ability Haruhi was born with. Or else she wouldn’t be able to proudly wear that armband and act so high and mighty.
    Under director Haruhi’s supervision, we began the commemorative shooting of the first scene.
    Except that it just consisted of me standing on the side shooting Asahina running across the area. This was supposed to be the opening. She could have at least written a script. But Haruhi said flat-out that no such thing existed.
    “It would be bad if I put everything on paper and it got leaked.”
    That was her reasoning. Looks like we’re going to film this movie Hong Kong–style. I was feeling pretty damn exhausted at this point, but when I looked through the camera lens at Asahina dual-wielding pistols, jogging along out of breath, I figured I had it relatively easy.
    As the rest of us watched, Asahina continuously ran wearily from right to left until the fifth take when the director finally signaled okay, which was when she collapsed on the ground.
    “Ha… ha…”
    Paying no attention to the waitress with both hands on the ground as her back rose and fell with each breath, Haruhi directed her next instruction to Nagato, waiting on the sidelines.
    “Okay, we’re doing Yuki and Mikuru’s battle scene next.”
    Nagato, in her favorite black outfit, slowly moved in front of the camera. The outfit was just a pitch-black mantle over her uniform and a black pointy hat on her head, so there was no need for her to be dragged into the thicket like Asahina, fortunately. Then again, Nagato would probably be fine with changing her clothes anywhere. Why don’t we reverse their roles? Make Nagato the waitress and Asahina the mage. That would be curiously appropriate.
    Haruhi had Asahina and Nagato stand facing each other three meters apart.
    “Mikuru, unload like crazy on Yuki.”
    “Huh,” Mikuru responded. She shook her hair, which was a tangled mess after all that running. “But I’m not supposed to fire this at people…”
    “It’s fine. With your aim, you won’t hit her much anyway. Even if you were able to hit her, Yuki could probably just dodge it.”
    Nagato just stood silently with the star-tipped pointer in hand.
    Well yeah, I’d have to agree there. Nagato could have a gun pressed against her forehead and still manage to dodge the bullet.
    “Um…”
    Looking like a newly hired waitress having to report a broken dish to the scary chef, Asahina nervously glanced up at Nagato.
    “It’s fine,” replied Nagato. And with a spin of the pointer, she said, “Shoot me.”
    “See, she says it’s fine. Fire away. And just a heads-up, you don’t fire both at the same time. You alternate. That’s a basic