Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
On the night of one August 31 out of thousands and thousands, Kyon gets a phone call and takes a little trip and will remember none of it tomorrow.
(itsukyon, 3.7k words. content warnings for discussion of literal and metaphorical death, plus briefer discussions of suicide [with some light imagery] and animal death. crossposted on ao3.)
August 31, 6 p.m. Kyon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom.
August 31, 7 p.m. Kyon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom.
August 31, 8 p.m. Kyon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom.
He canât see a point to moving when heâll wake up tomorrow, unaware and almost two weeks younger, cut off from his future for the sixteen-thousand-and-whatever-eth time. This lethargy must be what it feels like to be depressed, and he wishes he was annoyed, instead; he wishes he could go back to when he was just annoyed. He wishes he was anxious, or angry, or sad. That last one comes closest, but âsadâ sounds so shallow compared to the cold weight pulling down on his eyelids, his legs, his chest.Â
He canât see a point because there is no point. So heâll wake up tomorrow and not remember, and in the meantime, he tries not to think about anything at all, as if that might help.
His attempted lack of thoughts is interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He closes his eyes but doesnât move, and finally the ringing stops â except it starts again almost immediately. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, but the caller makes one, two, three more attempts until finally Kyon gives a groan of frustration and sits up, grasping with irritation at the incessant little device. He doesnât even bother to look at the number.
âHello?â he snaps.Â
âGood afternoon, Kyon,â Koizumi replies pleasantly. âCould you meet me on the roof of Nagatoâs apartment building?â
Of all the voices that could have soothed him right now, Koizumiâs just makes Kyon want to throw something. He looks at his phone for a moment, fantasizing about embedding it in the drywall, then realizes that nothing is really stopping him, is it? But heâd rather not spend the last few hours before the loop restarts listening to his motherâs admonishments, so he puts the receiver back to his ear and says, âWhy?â
âIâm afraid itâd be easier to explain once you get here.â
âWhen?â
âImmediately, if you can. Unless youâre too busy?â
Kyon grinds his teeth. Koizumi knows damn well heâs got nothing else to do. He stays quiet for as long as he can, just to keep that smiling bastard waiting, then grumbles, âI guess I can pencil it in.â
He hangs up before Koizumi has the chance to respond. It feels good to shut him up â the best heâs felt all day.
He considers standing Koizumi up or running late, just to piss him off. The thought of that polite, charming boy leaning against the railing of that roof, frowning with his furrowed eyebrows and his sweat-damp (and hopefully sunburnt) summer skin, gives him a rush of schadenfreude-laden joy. He isnât sure why; Koizumi hasnât done anything wrong, really, itâs just the way his voice sounds, so smooth and unbothered that itâs almost smug. Kyon reminds himself that Koizumi is just as stuck as he is. Besides, lying in bed for so long has left his skin feeling sticky and hot. He stands slowly.
As Kyon shambles through his living room, his eyes catch on the fishbowl next to the door. The little orange fish inside it had been the product of so much effort on his part that Haruhi allowed him to keep it â as if he had even wanted the thing. But he took it home anyway, almost without realizing, and now his sister is attached to it.Â
The fishbowl is tiny, and as Kyon pauses to watch the orange splotch swim around and around, he canât help but feel a stab of pity. In such a small, plain bowl, it canât go anywhere; it canât even change its trajectory very much. It just swims in circles. This has never occurred to him before.
He could buy it a bigger tank, if he can think of a place to put it. But no â they wonât have the fish come tomorrow.Â
Kyon takes his time on the trip to Nagatoâs apartment building, letting the humid summer air wash over him as the sound of cicadas wraps in on itself again and again until itâs a blanket, covering his ears, droning on and on and on until every other sound is blocked out. When the thought of listening to it for another second starts to feel unbearable, he speeds up, and then he starts to think.Â
Why did Koizumi invite him out like this? He had called Kyonâs phone â what, five times? Six? It must be important. Suddenly, it dawns on him: Could Koizumi have discovered a way to end the time loop? The prospect squeezes at his chest, desperate, and he quickens his pace until the building is upon him.
When he arrives on the roof, his clothes are thin with sweat and his sides are heaving from running up all the stairs. Everything is empty except for Koizumi, facing Kyon from where he sits across from the door with his back against the railing. He smiles, but he doesnât otherwise move, and Kyon wonders, disturbed, how long Koizumi has been sitting in that spot, watching for his arrival.
The sky is wide above them, and the stars are as bright as theyâve always been.
âHave you figured it out?â Kyon pants. âHow to end the time loop?â
Koizumi raises his eyebrows in (surely false) surprise. âWhen did I ever say that?â
âHave you?â
âNo.â
All the energy seems to leave Kyonâs body right then, but somehow, he doesnât really feel surprised. He trudges over to Koizumi, still catching his breath, and mutters, âYou lying bastard.â
âI never lied to you. It seems like you jumped to conclusions,â Koizumi protests, the smile never leaving his face. He leans away like heâs afraid Kyonâs going to hit him, but the movement is too casual to be genuine.Â
âWhat else was I supposed to assume? You called me five times. I thought it was urgent.â
âI can tell,â Koizumi comments. His eyes run over Kyonâs body â noting his sweat-drenched clothes, no doubt, with an amused detachment that makes Kyon curl in on himself. âActually, it is urgent.â
âOut with it, then.â
Koizumi watches him for a moment then stands, turning to look out over the city. Heâs wearing a brown tweed jacket, for some reason, with a pink button-down, and it annoys Kyon. The expression on his face, meanwhile, is unreadable.
âItâs almost nine,â he says finally, eyes drifting up from the city to the sky. âThe world will reset in just over three hours, and the past week or so might as well have never happened. Only Nagato will remember. Isnât it strange?â
That doesnât answer Kyonâs question, of course, and heâs about to say so before Koizumi continues, âPardon my honesty, but Iâve been restless all day. The idea that weâre going to forget all of this at the stroke of midnight â it disturbs me. Iâve never been particularly afraid of death â not more than the next person â but itâs coming in mere hours, and that knowledge is unnerving. In a way, weâre going to die. These versions of us will die. After all, what is any human but a collection of memories and feelings? The memories that weâve collected over the past few days, the experiences weâve had together, theyâll cease to exist soon, and when they do, the versions of us who lived through them will, too. The thoughts we have now will be obliterated. The people who wake up in our beds tomorrow will be different. Isnât it strange?â
Kyon frowns. He doesnât want to think about this, but he understands; he canât help it. âYeah, itâs strange. But what can we do?â
Koizumi turns his head and looks at Kyon. Heâs still smiling, but it looks even faker than usual, and for a long second he doesnât reply.
âNothing,â he admits, finally. âWhatever chance we had to change things has already passed; you must be able to feel that as well as I can. Iâve given up entirely. For now, though, we have a few hours left before we die, and Iâd like to be awake to see what happens when the world ends, even if I canât remember it tomorrow. I donât think I could sleep even if I tried, anyway. I felt that spending this time together would be better than spending it apart, since the end result wonât change.â
A wave of irritation hits Kyon before he can process the implications of Koizumiâs words. âThose are just your feelings, Koizumi. I wouldnât call them urgent.â
âOn the contrary, nothing could possibly be more urgent,â Koizumi argues, his smile widening. âThe ending is already set in stone, and nothing we do can deviate all that much from its path; we have nothing except our feelings. If we arenât going to indulge them some, thereâs nothing left for us to do. Trust me, Kyon, Iâm very serious about this.â
âI donât like how vulnerable youâre being right now,â Kyon blurts.
Koizumi blinks, and the smile actually falls from his face for a split-second before itâs back as if nothing happened. He sort of laughs. âWas it that obvious? Iâm sorry. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me â Iâd rather not be left alone.â
Kyon doesnât know what to say to that, so he just leans his arms down against the railing and looks at the city, the sky, anywhere that isnât Koizumi. Suddenly, it occurs to him. âThis is Nagatoâs apartment building. Where is she?â
âWhen I decided I wanted to meet up, she was the first person I asked, naturally; it is her home, after all. I made it clear that it was up to her whether she joined me or not, and she said I was free to use this space, but she wouldnât be coming.â
âI wonder why,â Kyon says, frowning.
Koizumi shrugs. âSheâs lived through this same day hundreds of times. Maybe sheâd rather not do this again if she doesnât have to.â
âBut surely sheâs suffering more than any of us.â
âYouâre probably right, but what can we do about that? If she prefers to spend the night alone, I canât blame her.â
Kyon goes quiet again. Then, âWhat about the others?â
âI couldnât invite Miss Suzumiya, obviously. Itâs nothing personal, but we canât talk about the time loop with her around, and thereâs nothing else to talk about, really.â He pauses. âWhich leaves you, me, and Asahina. Again, itâs nothing personal, but Asahina has been inconsolable ever since she discovered she canât return to the future, and I donât wish for that extra stress as Iâm dying. Besides, Iâm not sure if third-wheeling for the two of you would make for my ideal last moments, either.â
âYouâre not dying, though,â Kyon argues crossly. He elects to ignore the third-wheeling comment.
âThe person I am tonight is,â Koizumi replies without missing a beat. âThe person I am tonight wonât ever wake up again. The same is true of you. I thought I explained it well enough that youâd be able to understand.â
âI do understand,â Kyon snaps, âI just donât want to think of it that way.â
Koizumi huffs out something like a laugh, then turns back to look out over the city. Heâs quiet for such a long time that Kyon wonders if heâs going to speak again, but finally, he says with some hesitation, âIâm glad you understand. Iâm sure youâve noticed by now that I often⊠talk to you at length when Iâm explaining things. This may not be obvious, but I usually rehearse ahead of time.â
He seems like heâs about to continue but doesnât. Kyon feels oddly embarrassed.Â
It gets quiet after that, and Kyon canât stand it. Heâs afraid that heâll look at Koizumi and see his face all quiet and pensive, red from the heat, eyes distant like he just told Kyon something personal, which maybe he did. Maybe his discomfort is what Koizumi wants, just to get him to say something, just to get him to acknowledge the odd confession. But what is he supposed to say? That Koizumi is eloquent? He is, but thatâs nothing new, and it only ever pisses Kyon off. That heâs sorry Koizumi goes through such efforts for him? Heâs not; itâs Koizumiâs own fault. Something else? Like what?
He decides to change the topic altogether. âWhat would you have done if I hadnât showed up?â
âWere you planning not to?â Koizumi asks.
Kyon scowls because Koizumi knows the answer, and Kyon knows that, and Koizumi knows that Kyon knows that, the smug fucker. Still, he grumbles, âNo. But what if?â
Koizumi pauses, as if heâs actually mulling the question over, then says, âI suppose I wouldâve jumped off the roof.â
That was the last answer Kyon expected, and his stomach drops painfully. He turns to look at Koizumi without meaning to, as if his expression will tell him anything, but no, heâs still just gazing out at the horizon like itâs the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen, calm.
âYouâre not serious,â Kyon begs.
Another pause, then a quiet laugh, barely a chuckle. âYouâre right. I donât have the courage for that; what if it stuck? I donât want to die.â
âNo one does,â Kyon responds lamely, and Koizumi just shrugs his shoulders.
Neither of them say anything else. Koizumiâs silence is almost disturbing, but Kyon suddenly feels so nauseous that it doesnât matter. First he sees the image of Koizumiâs body, broken and bloody and unnatural on the sidewalk, hears his voice, I donât want to die. Then he sees the ceiling of his room above him. His sisterâs goldfish, swimming in circles in its little fishbowl. We have nothing except our feelings. If he had bought it a better tank earlier on, at least it couldâve had a pleasant week in Kyonâs house before the world resets. Cicadas. I donât want to die.
The sky suddenly feels like a closed dome and Kyon realizes he canât stand to look at it anymore, so he turns around and sinks down until heâs sitting with his back to the railing, just like Koizumi was when he first got here. The rest of the roof is still empty, and Koizumi sits next to him.Â
How long do they sit there? Minutes? Hours? Hundreds of years? Itâs not midnight yet, but heâs not sure if it matters. Nagato said before that the details of each loop differ. Have he and Koizumi done this before? How many times? Will they do it again? Will either of them ever know? They wonât, most likely, and thatâs fine, because Kyon isnât sure he wants to. He wishes it was over already because every second makes him dizzy, and every second feels so long. What time is it?
âKyon,â Koizumi says, finally.
âWhat?â
âHave you ever been kissed? In the real world, I mean.â
What.
Kyon coughs hard, suddenly not dizzy anymore. He turns to stare at Koizumi, who is looking at him but still smiling, and lets his jaw hang slack with shock. âWhat did you say?â
âI asked if youâve ever been kissed before,â Koizumi repeats.Â
âWhy the hell are you asking me that?â Kyon splutters, suddenly very aware of Koizumiâs mouth.Â
âI kissed someone in middle school once,â Koizumi pushes on as if Kyon hadnât spoken. âIt⊠Ah, it wasnât all that nice, if you can believe that, but I donât think anyone knows how to kiss in middle school. It never led to anything. Iâve never actually had a real relationship.â
âWhy are you telling me this?â
Koizumiâs mouth twitches. âDo you want to kiss me?â
Kyon stares for one second, two. His brain makes dial-up noises. Welcome to the SOS Brigade website!
âDo you want to kiss me?â Koizumi repeats, at the exact same moment that Kyon blurts, âIâm not gay.â
Koizumi blinks. âWhat did you say?â
âI said Iâm not gay.â
Koizumiâs mouth twitches again, and then his smile actually widens for a moment. âAnd?â
âIâm not bisexual either.â
âAre you sure?â
âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âNothing,â Koizumi says, and his smile morphs into a rare, serious line. âThatâs alright. I shouldnât have said anything.â
All that Kyon can do, it seems, is stare. Heâs suddenly aware that his face is burning up and his mouth feels awfully dry. The dizziness, though, the nausea, are both gone. He doesnât know how to feel or what to say, so he just mutters, âYouâre making fun of me.â
âNo,â Koizumi says with more feeling than Kyon is used to. What feeling that is, exactly, isnât clear, but his face is still serious. âIâm not making fun of you. Donât worry about it â we donât need to argue. Thereâs less than an hour left now, and Iâd rather spend it⊠peacefully. Just forget I said anything.â
Koizumi looks off into the distance somewhere with a pensive expression on his face, but Kyon canât wrench his eyes away from him. His heart is pounding and his thoughts are racing so fast that he can barely keep up with them, but he doesnât feel disgusted or angry like he expects to. Disgusted or angry, no. Distressed, yes â but he canât put his finger on what type of distress. He almost hates Koizumi for doing this, for making everything so difficult and wrong, but the look on his face is so sad that Kyon just feels disturbed. Koizumi has always been a liar, and for a second Kyon wonders if his sadness is just a ploy to change his mind, but it canât be, because itâs clear from the way his jaw is set that heâs trying to hide it.Â
Koizumi isnât meant to look sad, Kyon realizes with an itch in his throat. Heâs always got that same smile on his too-handsome face, and sometimes (often) Kyon wishes he could see that smile crumble into something tragic just for the satisfaction of piercing through his good-boy act, but this feels â bad. Not just wrong in its strangeness, but painful, too. Maybe heâd like to see Koizumi annoyed or angry or nervous, but he doesnât like seeing him sad.Â
Do you want to kiss me? He hears it for a third time, this one just in his head. Now that his shock has faded, the question sends a current through him, spinning his stomach around and growing thorns around his neck. Even the slight breeze canât cool the summer air.
Koizumi is handsome. This is a fact. Kyon has acknowledged this before because it is a fact. Koizumiâs face is so well-sculpted that itâs shocking itâs not intentional (or maybe it is, Haruhi). Koizumiâs nose is slim and straight, his teeth are white, his eyes are clear, his hair is perfect, his skin is smooth, his lips are shapely and must be soft. Kyon has always known it. Sometimes it crosses his mind, but he doesnât dwell on it. The thought of dwelling on it horrifies him.Â
He resents Koizumi. He really does.Â
Less than an hour blocks Kyon from the complete obliteration of the him that exists right now; less than an hour separates Kyon from the moment he will disappear from his own memory. None of these thoughts will remain. Not a minute of this struggle will persist. Maybe thatâs a good thing, because he isnât sure if he could see Koizumiâs face in the clubroom every day with this knowledge. Maybe itâs a good thing.Â
Even though itâs late, he is wide awake. Even though it could be a good thing, heâs afraid.Â
Itâs summer. Kyon remembers their visit to the pool days ago, and the feeling of the cool water on his skin relieves him for a moment before it becomes agonizing in its absence. He imagines himself swimming. He imagines himself swimming around in circles, around and around and around, in Haruhiâs little communal pool. He imagines himself pressing his hands up against that great empty dome of the sky, and he wonders what lies beyond it. How many times has he lived through this moment? How many times can you repeat an experience before it loses its meaning? Does the meaning return if you forget the experience? Does he feel ill?
He imagines flushing that fish down the toilet.
Koizumi stirs next to him as if heâs about to speak, and Kyon grabs him by the lapel of his jacket and kisses him.
Itâs not a smooth thing. His lips smush awkwardly against Koizumiâs, and the other boy doesnât move, doesnât even breathe. Koizumiâs lips are soft, and finally he shifts, cupping Kyonâs cheek with a surprising hesitancy for someone so charming. His fingers are gentle at first, maybe fearful â certainly fearful, then, as they press down harder into the skin behind his ear. Theyâre shaking, and Koizumi opens his mouth, inviting, and Kyon accepts. He puts his hand hesitantly on Koizumiâs arm.
His thoughts have almost caught up with him when heâs distracted by the increasingly strong trembling of Koizumiâs arm and then, suddenly, the other boy is spluttering. Kyon reels back, wondering what the hell he did wrong, when he realizes that Koizumi isâ
âWhat the hell are you laughing about?â Kyon snaps, realizing now how hot his face has become. Heâs an idiot. Heâs an idiot.Â
Koizumiâs laugh is uneven and frantic, and he scrubs at his face with his hands. His voice is desperate in a way that Kyon has never heard it as he gasps, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. Itâs not you. Iâm not â Iâm not laughing at you.â
Kyonâs anger is replaced by concern, but a host of other feelings remain, cold and hot at the same time, paralyzing him and begging him to move. He manages, âWhat is it, then?â
âI justââ Koizumi cuts himself off and drops his hands. His breathing slows and he tilts his head back, as if looking at the stars. His eyes are closed. âThis is the only way, isnât it?â
âThe only way?â Kyon repeats, furrowing his eyebrows.Â
âItâs fine. It doesnât matter.â Koizumi drops his head back to eye level and takes a deep breath. He puts his hand on Kyonâs shoulder. âWe donât even have half an hour left, you know. We ought to make it count.â
Despite himself, Kyon finds himself agreeing; he canât imagine not agreeing anymore. He scoots closer to Koizumi and leans in once more, squeezing his eyes shut, until their mouths meet again. For a while, he makes it count.Â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming