Even with the band-aid on, the lingering sense of suffocation had only faded slightly. If things continued like this, Kyo would inevitably keep getting drawn toward the water, unable to stop her attention from drifting.
But that wasn't a problem.
"Tomori, why don't you hold my hand and lead me this time?" Kyo stretched out her hand without hesitation. "That way, you won't have to worry about me getting dragged off by the people from the Sanzu River."
Standing in front of Kyo? Like I did when I was CRYCHIC's vocalist?
I can't do that.
"I'll just mess it up again…"
The painful memories resurfaced in Tomori's mind. Sakiko's voice echoed in her ears—Tomori's the one who needs practice the most.
From the very beginning, it had been Sakiko who discovered Tomori's talent for singing.
Sakiko was the one who told her that her voice could give shape to people's unspoken cries.
Sakiko was the one who gave her a place where she felt warm, where she could express the emotions she had always hidden away, where she could be understood—where she could shine.
But in the end, it was also Sakiko who, before leaving the band, had criticized her, calling her the one who needed practice the most.
And in the end, she was the reason that the home she had longed for… had fallen apart.
Tomori's eyes stung with the threat of tears. A single drop had already welled up in the corner of her eye.
Kyo noticed immediately.
Well then, no need for Tomori to lead her anymore. That one unshed tear was far more captivating than the vast body of water behind her.
There was no way she could ignore Tomori now.
Kyo led Tomori to a secluded bench, pressing lightly on her shoulders to make her sit down. Tomori lowered her head, caught in the emotional turmoil swirling inside her, that lone tear trembling in her eye, refusing to fall.
"Do you want something to drink?"
Kyo suddenly realized it had been a while since she last drank water. Her thirst, dulled in her overwatered state, was finally making itself known.
She sat down beside Tomori, unzipping the backpack she had been carrying, which mostly held extra clothes but also—more importantly—her own water supply.
A large, opaque water bottle. As she took it out, the ice inside clinked against the sides, rattling in the liquid. Then, to Tomori's surprise, Kyo pulled out two classic glass cups.
Tomori still didn't answer, so Kyo went ahead with her preparations.
No more playing the role of Sakiko.
She had figured it out by now.
Tomori was a volcano—one that could erupt at any moment—but unlike most, which spewed their emotions outward, her eruptions turned inward, burning herself instead.
An explosion should have been a way to release pressure, but for Tomori, it only crushed her further.
And the spark for that explosion… was CRYCHIC's disbandment. Or, more specifically, Sakiko's departure.
Humming softly, Kyo twisted the lid off her bottle. The moment it opened, a crisp, cool fragrance escaped into the air.
Bringing the bottle closer, she took a slow breath in, letting the scent unfold in layers—the faint sweetness of blue curaçao, the tangy mix of pineapple and lemon, all blending seamlessly with the rich, creamy aroma of coconut milk. A fragrance that evoked images of tropical oceans and sunlit shores.
As she poured the drink, its striking ocean-blue hue spilled into the glass, shimmering like a miniature sea contained within. A tiny, self-contained miracle.
For Tomori's glass, Kyo carefully selected a single, perfectly round ice cube. Stained a dreamy blue by the syrup, it transformed under the scattered reflections of light, becoming a glistening, translucent blue planet suspended in the drink.
Holding the beautiful drink in her hands, Kyo swirled it slightly in front of Tomori's face, drawing her attention.
It worked.
The tiny frozen planet, floating within its glassy ocean, caught Tomori's gaze the moment it passed before her eyes.
"Spacing out during a date is a major point deduction, you know."
Kyo had conveniently forgotten that not too long ago, she had been wandering along the Sanzu River herself.
"Here, this one's yours."
Tomori, drawn by her love for stars, accepted the drink automatically—but she didn't take a sip.
Meanwhile, Kyo had already started on her own, savoring the fruity sweetness that spread across her tongue like a gentle ocean breeze. When she swallowed, the way the liquid splashed against the glass felt like tiny waves, carrying the sensation of salt-kissed air.
"Aren't you going to drink, Tomori? I've got plenty more."
Tomori was still staring at her glass, untouched.
"…It feels like a waste to just drink it."
"Drinks are meant to be consumed, you know," Kyo chuckled. "No matter how beautiful they are, they're not decorations. Leave them sitting too long, and they'll go bad."
"…So something precious like this… is destined to not last forever?"
"…Forever, huh?"
A weighty word.
Kyo couldn't quite grasp the question.
To her, forever meant something frozen in place—a single drop of water, stripped of its movement, its flow.
And Kyo hated things that never changed.
But she wasn't going to dismiss Tomori's feelings outright. Maybe if she tried to understand, she could see the beauty in forever the way Tomori did.
"What is it that Tomori wants to last forever?" Kyo asked. "The band? But relationships are always shifting. Emotions are messy, and sometimes even a single confession can shatter a group that seemed stable for years. Speaking from experience."
She spoke bluntly—maybe too bluntly. If this were any other moment, she probably would have chosen her words more carefully.
"The more people involved, the harder it is to keep things steady. No matter how much effort goes into maintaining balance, all it takes is one unexpected moment for everything to fall apart."
"…Just like CRYCHIC. Just like Sakiko."
Kikukawa Kyo set down her glass and crouched in front of Tomori, who had her head lowered, shoulders trembling as if she were holding back sobs. She could see the tear clinging to the edge of Tomori's lashes, ready to fall.
"Tomori, maybe forever exists. But standing still like this, retreating into yourself, isn't going to get you there."
"…What should I do?"
"Hold onto every moment that makes you happy. Collect them, one by one, and maybe—just maybe—that will become a forever of its own."
"Every happy moment…?"
"I can't promise you that doing this will get you the forever you want," Kyo admitted with a playful wink, flashing a dazzlingly radiant smile. "Just take it as the drunken rambling of a hopeless romantic."
Tomori didn't respond. She sat there, deep in thought, as if carefully considering Kyo's words. Through the blur of her tears, she looked into Kyo's eyes—eyes that shone even brighter than the tiny blue planet floating in her glass.
"Then, Kyo… would you be willing to spend forever with me?"
"…Wow, Tomori, that was bold. Already putting what you just learned into practice?" Kyo gasped in exaggerated surprise.
"But unfortunately, I can't make any promises about the future. Honestly, you and I might be the worst possible combination."
One of them struggled to understand emotions at all. The other longed to be understood but could never fully express what she felt.
Even now, could they really say they were on the same wavelength?
Could two people like them truly last forever?
"…But maybe I can give you a little encouragement."
Kyo stood up and poured herself another glass of that ocean-blue drink.
"At the bar, mixing drinks is an art of communication, drinking is a meeting of souls—and toasting is the purest form of blessing."
She raised her glass. "So let's set aside the messy, complicated things. We're still underage, so we can't use alcohol to numb ourselves, but why not believe in a foolish kind of romance instead? A beautiful daydream can be just as intoxicating—just as capable of making us believe in a bright future."
I believe that one day, I will understand emotions. And if I can believe in that without reason, then I can just as easily believe that you'll get what you're wishing for, too.
Drawn in by Kyo's warmth, Tomori clumsily mimicked her, lifting her own glass.
Satisfied, Kyo smiled and took the initiative, gently tapping her glass against Tomori's.
Clink—
The crisp sound rang out, like the final note of a melody settling into place, carrying the fruity scent of the ocean breeze straight to Tomori's ears.
Kyo downed her drink in one go. Tomori hurried to follow suit, sipping hers in quick, eager gulps.
"…It's really good."
"That's a relief. I wouldn't want our first moment to end with a bad memory."
"…Huh?" Tomori froze.
"What's that face for?" Kyo raised an eyebrow before quickly catching on, then burst into laughter. "Hahaha! I only said I couldn't promise anything about the future.
"Come on, Tomori. We're on a date. Do you really think I'd be dense enough to turn you down right now?"
Kyo's carefree laughter rang through the air, and instead of feeling embarrassed, Tomori found herself laughing, too.
This shining moment—
I'll remember it.
For a lifetime.