Kikukawa Kyo felt terrifyingly powerful at this moment.
Her thoughts were flowing effortlessly—sharp, quick, and seamlessly translating into action without a single hitch. If she had to describe it, it was like entering a state of flow.
Total concentration. Perfect synchronization between mind and body. An overwhelming sense of self, magnified and accompanied by an almost euphoric clarity.
In this heightened state, Kyo had already devised a plan the instant she noticed Tomori's sinking mood.
Known factors:
She had recently developed an interest in studying and mimicking others.
Among the people connected to her life—aside from family—the one she was most familiar with, and held the most complicated feelings toward, was Sakiko. If she was going to practice imitation, it wouldn't make sense to choose someone she barely knew or someone too easy to mimic.
Tomori's reaction to Sakiko's departure had been intense—so much so that she left the band entirely because of it. It was clear that, in Tomori's heart, Sakiko carried far more weight than anyone else.
Conclusion reached.
Identify the problem. Formulate a solution. Retrieve the necessary data. Begin simulation.
The way Sakiko moved, the way she smiled, her aura, her words—every subtle nuance from their time in CRYCHIC—was now refracted through Kyo, like light bending on the surface of the water. The reflection of "Togawa Sakiko" took shape before Tomori's eyes.
And judging by Tomori's reaction, Kyo's mimicry was a success.
Her widened pupils trembled. Her body, once stiff with tension, instantly relaxed, as if she had just laid eyes on someone she deeply trusted. Her throat quivered slightly, full of unspoken words—questions she wanted to ask but couldn't bring herself to voice.
Tomori and Sakiko are nothing alike.
Sakiko had locked away her own weakness behind a wall of pride, refusing to let anyone see it.
Tomori, on the other hand, had a mind overflowing with thoughts and emotions, yet she struggled to express them—always drifting into her own world, lost in unspoken feelings.
If Sakiko was an iceberg—sealed off, requiring patient effort to thaw through its layers of ice—then Tomori was a volatile volcano, unpredictable and always on the verge of eruption.
Another kind of challenge altogether.
Kyo had encountered cases like this before. A single spark, the right trigger, could ignite the explosion—and once it erupted, the outpouring of emotions could completely disrupt the surrounding relationships, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
If she were thinking normally, Kyo would have handled this situation entirely differently from how she handled Sakiko. She would have chosen a strategy that avoided overwhelming Tomori too much, preventing unnecessary emotional distress.
But unfortunately for Tomori, Kyo wasn't exactly in her normal state right now.
Her usual analytical reasoning had indeed identified the most logical course of action.
But then, a part of her—one that usually only surfaced in the rain, behind the bar counter, lingering just long enough to whisper of fleeting romance—decided to reject that cold, calculated answer.
We're in such a beautiful place. Why waste time on complicated thoughts? Wouldn't it be more fun to just take a stroll through this enchanting world beneath the sea with Tomori?
"Tomori, let's go."
Still holding Tomori's hand, Kyo led her forward—just like how Sakiko had once led Tomori to the position of lead vocalist.
"We're going on a date."
Through the amber hue of Tomori's eyes, the scene reflected back at her was breathtaking.
Behind Kikukawa Kyo, light streamed through the massive aquarium tank, scattering into shifting patterns that danced with the water's gentle movements. The refracted brilliance shimmered around her, merging with the rippling water to form an invisible cloak—one that draped over Kyo, making her radiate with infinite splendor.
Once again, Tomori felt it—that sensation of being illuminated, of being bathed in warmth.
"Like the sun…"
"Is that another way of saying you like me?"
Kyo tilted her head with a smile. It was an ordinary smile, no different from usual, yet it still stirred something deep in Tomori's heart.
"Hmm… If I had the choice, though, I'd rather be compared to something related to water—or maybe a drink."
Now that Tomori was finally speaking again, Kyo got a little carried away, saying something that definitely wasn't very Sakiko-like.
But who cared? Whatever.
"If we have to go with a celestial body, I'd rather be called Mercury."
"There's no actual water on Mercury…"
The sudden shift in topic seemed to make it easier for Tomori to speak. Head lowered, she followed along with Kyo's steps but still responded with unexpected seriousness.
"Even if it's just a name, the fact that it has 'water' in it makes me like it more than the other planets."
Kyo spoke with a righteous confidence, making no effort to conceal her bias.
"Your name has a lot of 'water' in it, too, Kyo."
"That's right! That's why I really like my name."
It was the first time Tomori had heard someone say they liked their own name because it contained a lot of 'water.' She didn't quite understand Kyo's thought process, but somehow, in this strange logic, she felt a connection between them.
That straightforward, almost unreasonable confidence Kyo carried—so self-assured without being arrogant, saying absurd things in a way that made them sound utterly convincing.
"Kyo… you're like an emperor penguin."
"An emperor penguin now?" Kyo mused. "Hmm… When I think of penguins, I picture glaciers more than water. Actually, seeing them swim today was kind of a new experience for me."
"Penguins' round bodies make them great for swimming… Their wings and webbed feet work like paddles to propel them forward, and sometimes, they'll suddenly shoot out of the water like rockets to take a breath…"
As they walked, their conversation drifted in a strange yet oddly fitting rhythm—never quite aligning, yet always loosely connected. In truth, the two of them were simply speaking their own thoughts, each on their own frequency.
"You really like penguins, huh, Tomori?"
Up until now, Kyo had been leading the way, pulling Tomori forward step by step. But as they reached the aquarium's penguin exhibit, watching the birds glide effortlessly through the water, Tomori's pace naturally adjusted—matching Kyo's stride, walking side by side.
"Sorry, I got carried away again…"
"It's fine. If anything, I completely understand that feeling—when you love something so much, you just get lost in it."
Did I… really get understood again?
Can a pill bug walk under the sun?
If I accept this warmth again… will I just end up losing it once more?