After updating her impressions of Togawa Sakiko, Kyo scanned her "database" with satisfaction. Eventually, her gaze returned to the five members of CRYCHIC at the center of the board.
She possessed a unique ability—to perceive emotions through water. But in exchange, she was nearly incapable of understanding emotions through ordinary means.
This deficiency had caused her countless troubles in the past. Most notably, her inability to correctly interpret how people around her felt often led to inappropriate responses, which in turn damaged her relationships and left her ostracized.
Kyo traced her fingers over the photographs pinned to the whiteboard. But now, she had devised a method—one that suited her alone—to blend into human society.
Using her natural talents, she observed, analyzed, and categorized the behavior of those around her—just like an AI trained on vast amounts of data.
The first step was to collect objective information: height, weight, academic performance, hobbies, family background… Every detail had to be thoroughly understood, as such data provided crucial evidence when inferring personality traits.
Next came observing how they interacted with others. Did they laugh easily at jokes, or did they get embarrassed? How did they react to confessions?
Finally, all gathered data was compiled and summarized, forming a profile of the person's character. From there, she would devise a tailored approach to interacting with them. The real-world application served as a test—if the interactions went smoothly, then great. If they didn't, the extensive groundwork ensured she rarely made a critical misstep. If necessary, she could simply adjust her approach and repair the relationship.
Kyo was well aware that this method only treated the symptoms, not the cause. She was merely mimicking behavior, not truly understanding the emotions behind it.
The one small comfort was that she wasn't an emotionless monster. She felt joy, anger, sorrow, and resentment—she just struggled to recognize and process the emotions displayed by others.
By the time she had applied this method to nearly everyone around her, Kyo had grown confident in her ability to read people's emotions simply through their expressions and body language. As a result, she had gradually blended into her middle school environment.
And then she encountered her greatest challenge—CRYCHIC.
Kyo sighed, exasperated, as she stared at the five faces on the board.
Nagasaki Soyo—gentle and nurturing, almost like a mother to the band. But at times, Kyo felt that her kindness was too intense, as if it carried something deeper beneath the surface. Her voice also had an obvious false tone to it. Was she putting on an act?
Takamatsu Tomori—adorable and small, almost like a timid woodland creature. She was easily startled, soft-spoken, and frequently lost in her own world, completely immersed in her own rhythm of thought.
Wakaba Mutsumi—she wasn't difficult to understand, just… distant. They hadn't interacted enough for Kyo to get a proper read on her. Mutsumi rarely spoke, her face a blank slate most of the time, like a perfectly crafted doll. With that delicate and beautiful face, one would expect her to be expressive—but she wasn't. She was the hardest for Kyo to approach, so she kept a neutral distance. Not too close, not too far. No mistakes, no risks.
Shiina Taki—the easiest to read. She set high expectations for herself and extended those expectations to others, pushing them to meet her standards. As long as you had skill and went along with her pace, she was easy to get along with. The only lingering question was why she was so obsessed with maintaining those high standards. But Kyo didn't think solving that mystery would be too difficult—she just needed more data.
And then… there was Togawa Sakiko.
To be frank, before today, Sakiko had been one of the most straightforward people in Kyo's mental files.
Her upbringing as a young lady of high status gave her an air of grace and elegance, yet she also carried a certain innocence—a genuine warmth and enthusiasm for the things she loved, untouched by the trivialities of modern trends.
But today…
Today, in front of Kyo, she had shown an entirely different side.
Fragile. Helpless. Yet fiercely protective of herself.
It completely overturned everything Kyo had observed and concluded about her.
Were these five people some kind of final exam on understanding humanity?
Just when she had grown confident in her ability to seamlessly blend into any social group, they had completely thrown her off.
Are emotions really this complicated?
Just dealing with Sakiko alone had already given Kyo a headache. So many issues could be solved if people would just say what they mean instead of dancing around it.
"This makes it feel like all my efforts up until now have been one big joke…"
Annoyed, Kyo turned on her heel and headed back to her room. On the way, she grabbed a can of soda from the bar counter, opening it with a sharp pop before taking a long, aggressive swig.
The fizzy sweetness flooded her mouth, the carbonated bubbles bursting on her tongue in a pleasant, stimulating sensation, only to be immediately washed away by the overwhelming rush of sugar.
Sugar and carbonation—the fastest, simplest, and most direct way to feel good!
With the help of her drink, Kyo quickly pushed her frustrations aside and regained her usual energy.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the teapot and teacups she and Sakiko had used earlier. Her thoughts drifted back to the final cup of Darjeeling Sakiko had brewed for her.
Today might have been a complete defeat for her, but in the end, that cup of tea had allowed her to glimpse a portion of Sakiko's emotions—not through inference or deduction, but through something real and tangible.
If she could incorporate this into her model, perhaps she could reverse-engineer a full emotional profile for Sakiko.
She hadn't lost yet—these were just a few outliers.
Picking up the teapot and teacups, Kyo decided to give them a thorough wash. Otherwise, any new tea she brewed might carry the lingering taste of the previous one.
Maybe I should buy a few more teapots… one for each type of tea?
Lost in thought, she was just about to get up when her phone chimed with a LINE notification.
A message at this hour?
Kyo didn't check immediately. Instead, she paused to think. The most likely sender was Nagasaki Soyo.
Among the members of CRYCHIC, Soyo had always been the one most dedicated to the band—or more accurately, the one who cared most about the members themselves.
Given the timing, it was highly probable that Sakiko had already informed the others about her departure, and now Soyo was reaching out to ask whether Sakiko had come to see Kyo.
After considering the possibilities, Kyo finally pulled out her phone.
Sure enough, it was Soyo.
"Heh… Looks like all my effort wasn't in vain. My deductions still work most of the time."
She allowed herself a small moment of self-praise. After all, discovering that her usual approach to social interactions was fundamentally flawed had nearly been enough to make her shed a tear. Giving herself a little boost of confidence wasn't such a bad thing, was it?
However, a new problem now presented itself—Sakiko had undergone a dramatic shift after quitting the band.
There was no telling how Soyo, the person most concerned about the members' well-being, would react to this turn of events.
Kyo needed to think carefully about how to handle this increasingly unstable social dynamic.