"So you're the one Tomori mentioned—the one who 'wants to become human.'"
"—?!"
The moment Rinto said this, Sakiko, who had been sinking into guilt and unease, immediately lifted her head.
Like a child caught doing something wrong, her beautiful amber eyes quickly welled with tears. She opened her mouth but couldn't make a sound.
Like a mermaid princess washed ashore, helpless and voiceless, Rinto couldn't help thinking.
He saw the panic in Sakiko's eyes, so he only shook his head gently to reassure her:
"Don't worry. Tomori never told me any specifics. This is the first time I've even heard she used to be in a band with you. I never imagined that girl—so obedient, like a little animal—also had such a stylish side."
Rinto also recalled: Sakiko had mentioned once, their band was called CRYCHIC.
Cry, and chic.
Even when screaming yourself hoarse, do it with elegance.
That did fit the impression Rinto had of Sakiko—her pride was enormous. It was a good name.
He smiled as he went on:
"Do you want to know how I met Tomori? Have you spoken with her since?"
"...No."
Sakiko unconsciously toyed with the ends of her hair, fingers twisting and untwisting:
"I didn't have the courage to face Tomori. Back then, it was my selfishness that made me leave the band—I abandoned them on my own. If she had yelled at me more angrily, or clung to me blindly and refused to let go, maybe then I could've forced myself to face her."
"But that child was too good. She just looked at me with those pitiful eyes, like a pet being abandoned... I really couldn't face her."
That much, Rinto could understand.
Very few people could stay hard-hearted in front of a girl as adorable as Takamatsu Tomori. That would hardly be human.
Rinto: "So you didn't expect to meet her again in high school? You didn't choose to continue on at Tsukinomori Girls' Academy, but transferred to Shujin. Was that to avoid her?"
"...Actually, it wasn't to avoid Tomori. Two of the other CRYCHIC members also go to Tsukinomori. One of them is... more difficult to deal with. So..."
Sakiko clearly didn't want to elaborate further. Her voice grew vague, almost swallowed.
She tried to change the atmosphere, steering the conversation toward Rinto:
"So then, senpai—how did you meet Tomori? For her to tell you 'I want to become human'... that was supposed to be a secret just between the two of us. And yet you didn't even know she had been in a band? It makes no sense. I've been to Tomori's home, but I never saw any sign of a brother either."
Rinto: "Mm, well, it's true—I only ran into Tomori by chance. Even if you asked her now, she probably wouldn't remember me."
"For me, it's kind of a black mark." He smiled awkwardly, a little embarrassed.
He poured himself another cup of bitter black coffee, using the awful brew like rinse water for his throat, and began:
"What I'm about to say is also a secret. I hope you won't tell anyone, especially not Tomori. This will be our secret. And in turn, I'll keep your secret too. Okay?"
Sakiko: "Our secret... it sounds almost like being accomplices. That suits me well."
This noble, moonlight-like girl showed a faint, self-mocking smile.
Rinto actually found that wounded pride of hers beautiful.
Since she agreed, he explained:
"It was a few months ago, after your band must have already split up. One night I ran into Takamatsu Tomori on a pedestrian bridge."
"It was late—too late for a high schooler to be wandering. She was staring at the traffic lights below, reaching out her hand like she wanted to catch the stars... and then she fell."
"Wha—?!"
Sakiko gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, tears instantly streaming down.
But of course, Rinto shook his head:
"She was fine. I caught her. She wasn't hurt."
"But at that time... she was going through a lot, emotionally unstable. So I stayed with her, listened to her talk about her pain, then finally walked her home."
"To be honest, her way of speaking was so poetic I could barely follow. But I understood this much: she once had close friends she wanted to be with forever. Yet somehow, without realizing, they all drifted apart. And the one who had told her 'I want to become human' had abandoned her."
"She always thought it was her fault. That she must have made that girl angry. That she couldn't become human... That kind of inferiority and self-loathing gave her mental scars. But now, she seems to have recovered. She just doesn't remember meeting me that night."
Rinto kept it brief, deliberately leaving out everything connected to the Metaverse.
In truth, that night Takamatsu Tomori had lost all will to live, and when she fell from the bridge, she slipped into the Metaverse.
That girl, awkward with words in the real world, had unleashed a storm of emotion so fierce it took Rinto all his strength to pull her out.
In that state, he had only heard fragments of her broken heart, never a full conversation.
So at the end, facing her desperate wish for friends, he promised her: "I'll be your friend for life."
Only then had she calmed.
But after leaving the Metaverse, she forgot.
For Rinto, it was a little bittersweet... but for her, it was probably for the best.
For such a sensitive girl, remembering the Metaverse would be too dangerous.
"...I never knew..."
Sakiko wept openly, tears spilling fast.
Her brows knotted deep with self-blame:
"I didn't know Tomori went through something like that... I already knew she was a sensitive child, but I still abandoned her..."
"This is all my fault. Like an irresponsible parent—I brought her into this world, and then left her behind to fend for herself..."
Rinto: "That's overthinking it. Sakiko, you've only just become a high schooler. How could you possibly be responsible for someone else's entire life?"
His words were steady, but they cut through Sakiko's spiral of guilt like water on parched earth.
The way she spoke—she really did seem to believe she was Tomori's parent, with a duty to raise and protect her.
But that was it: pure arrogance.
Rinto didn't know the exact details of their band, nor why Sakiko had quit on her own.
But no matter how irresponsible she'd been, no matter how deserving of criticism—none of that was reason to bear responsibility for someone else's life.