Kikukawa Kyo took a sip of tea, mostly to keep herself from blurting out the doubts swirling in her mind.
She had underestimated just how devastating Sakiko's departure was for everyone. She had assumed that the five remaining members could carry on, but they hadn't even lasted a single day.
Soyo clearly wanted CRYCHIC to continue, but with Tomori and Taki gone, that wasn't something Kyo could fix on her own. Even someone like her couldn't play the keyboard, drum, and sing all at once…
And as for Mutsumi's thoughts—Kyo had no clue. None at all. Honestly, just seeing Mutsumi here was already beyond her expectations. As Sakiko's childhood friend, wasn't Mutsumi the one most likely to leave first after Sakiko quit the band?
Kyo kept her expression neutral, using the act of sipping her tea as an excuse to steal a glance at Wakaba Mutsumi. Although Mutsumi's face remained as impassive as ever and she sat there quietly like a model student, her gaze had been fixed on Soyo the entire time.
Hmm… maybe, possibly, probably… Mutsumi developed feelings for Soyo during this past month in CRYCHIC. And that's why she's staying by her side?
Kyo didn't dare to jump to conclusions. She took another sip of tea—this time, using it as a coolant for her brain to help her think faster. When it came to analyzing emotions, Kyo always felt like even her genius-level intellect wasn't enough.
After another sip, she mentally reviewed everything she had learned over the past few hours and arrived at a single conclusion: she lacked information.
And the missing pieces weren't things she could simply observe. They were buried deep in everyone's hearts—a vast sea of emotions she had always struggled to navigate, one she couldn't decipher even when it was laid bare before her eyes.
Even though she had, through a stroke of luck, come to understand the sharp, thorn-covered pride Sakiko carried, that knowledge did nothing to keep CRYCHIC together. In fact, it was that very pride that had destroyed the band in the first place.
So… CRYCHIC really was done for.
Like a cup of water accidentally knocked over—spilled, irreversible. Kyo wasn't the kind of person who would agonize over whether she should try licking up the water from the floor… Probably not, anyway.
Setting her cup down, Kyo met Soyo's gaze once again. The band might not be able to go on, but that didn't mean they couldn't still be friends.
"If even Tomori and Taki are gone, then the band…"
"CRYCHIC will definitely continue!"
She was cut off—forcefully.
Soyo suddenly erupted, her expression twisting with an intensity that marred her usual beauty. She tried to suppress it, but the sharp rise in her voice still drew the attention of several passersby.
"…I'm sorry, Kyo. I shouldn't have reacted like that." The moment she realized she had lost control, a wave of helpless despair crashed over her. Sakiko was already gone. Tomori and Taki likely didn't want to stay either. Was she about to push Kyo away with her own hands, too?
"I'm sorry, Kyo. Please… don't leave. Okay?"
"Soyo…" Mutsumi turned her head slightly, watching as Soyo hung her head low. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she closed them again.
Kyo observed the two girls, sensing the atmosphere growing heavier by the second. She searched her memory, combing through every experience and observation she had gathered, trying to match their behavior to something familiar.
But she had never seen anyone act like this before—so burdened, so desperate.
They were still just students. CRYCHIC had only existed for a month. And yet, Soyo was pleading this earnestly, this humbly.
What kind of overwhelming emotions lay behind such an act? Kyo wanted to explore it, dissect it, understand it…
But for now, the priority was to calm Soyo down. Emotional turmoil wasn't helpful for observation.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor broke the silence. Soyo, still looking down, flinched violently, her body trembling even harder.
Kyo was leaving.
And this time, it was entirely her fault.
Her vision blurred, tears welling up until they distorted everything before her.
At last, a single tear, unable to bear the pressure any longer, slipped down—only to be caught by a gently outstretched hand.
"Soyo."
A cool, serene voice—calm yet deeply reassuring—whispered right beside her, so close it felt like a lifeline.
"Look at me. I'm right here."
With difficulty, Soyo turned her head.
Kikukawa Kyo, who had been sitting across from her just moments ago, had now moved closer. She crouched by Soyo's side, gazing up at her with a gentle smile.
Kyo lightly took Soyo's right hand—the same hand that had been anxiously rubbing against its twin on her lap—and carefully enclosed it between her own.
Soyo's palm felt something warm and damp—the tear from before.
A tear distilled from sorrow, yet in this moment, it carried a quiet warmth, filling the hollow ache in her heart.
Beyond that warmth, there was also the sensation of Kyo's hands—cool and delicate, yet soft as flowing water. That touch alone seemed to wash away her unease.
Fresh tears welled up in Soyo's eyes, but this time, they were different.
"There, there. No more crying now. Who knew you were such a crybaby?" Kyo teased lightly.
If this went on, Kyo feared she might impulsively do something ridiculous—like licking those tears off. That kind of bizarre, reckless move would surely scare Soyo off and ruin their hard-earned friendship.
But it didn't seem like Soyo would be stopping anytime soon.
Calling upon her unparalleled genius, Kyo decided to take the simplest approach—out of sight, out of mind. She stretched out her arms and wrapped Soyo in a firm hug, resting her head lightly on Soyo's shoulder.
This way, she wouldn't be tempted anymore.
Soyo couldn't see her face, and she couldn't see Soyo's.
From this over-the-shoulder angle, however, Kyo caught sight of Mutsumi, who had been silent all this time.
Kyo blinked and mouthed something repeatedly at Mutsumi.
Mutsumi quickly noticed and, after a brief hesitation, understood what Kyo was asking.
After another pause, she finally reached out, hesitantly shifting closer. Awkwardly, clumsily, she joined in, wrapping her arms around Soyo as well.
Enveloped between the scent of cool water and the faint fragrance of cucumber flowers, Soyo could no longer hold back. The dam broke completely, and she sobbed, shoulders trembling, her cries quiet yet unrelenting.
Would this be enough to make her forget, even if only for a little while, the pain of CRYCHIC falling apart?
Kyo gently patted Soyo's quivering back. Come on, enough crying… If this keeps up, I really might lose control…
A farcical moment wrapped in warmth.
Kyo recalled how her mother used to hold her like this, and so, she played the role that best fit the moment—faithfully and without hesitation.