"Kyo…"
Although Tomori hadn't managed to talk much with Sakiko in the end, she wasn't nearly as dejected as before.
After hearing Sakiko clearly state that her departure from the band wasn't Tomori's fault, Tomori—who always tended to blame herself—had no choice but to accept it. Sakiko had taken all the responsibility with just a few simple words.
But now, a new confusion arose in Tomori's mind. Instinctively, she turned toward Kyo and Anon, looking to them for answers.
"What… did Sakiko mean by that last sentence?"
"It wasn't your fault, but please keep practicing."
"I think that's something you'll have to figure out for yourself, Tomori. After all, I was the last person to join CRYCHIC, so there are a lot of things I don't know. And, well… I wasn't even there on the day Sakiko left."
Kyo let out a small cough, clearly feeling a little guilty about that fact.
No one had ever blamed her for being late that day, but still…
Why did it have to rain so dramatically that day?
If it weren't for the rain, she wouldn't have been held up…
From Kyo's perspective, Sakiko's words were probably a blessing—something like, Even if I'm not here anymore, please keep singing your heart out.
But Kyo didn't voice that thought.
This was something between Sakiko and Tomori. She could analyze emotions directed toward her as much as she wanted, but she wouldn't overstep when it came to others' feelings—unless she was prepared to take responsibility for it.
Because she was different.
Her understanding of emotions was in the absolute minority, and she could never be certain that her interpretations were correct. There was a vast gap between her and other people when it came to emotional understanding—a chasm that constantly threatened to swallow her whole, laughing at the mess that was her heart.
Since Kyo had refused to answer, Tomori turned to Anon instead. But Anon knew even less.
"Uh, I know even less than Kyo does…" Anon averted her gaze, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by Tomori's wide, pleading eyes—like they could pull her in completely. "If it's okay, could you tell me what happened between you and Sakiko? And… what's CRYCHIC?"
At the mention of CRYCHIC, Tomori instinctively flinched, but she quickly lifted her head again, her tone laced with nostalgia.
"CRYCHIC was… our band. But we disbanded."
"A band, huh—"
Anon dragged out her words, repeating the key term from Tomori's brief explanation.
Tomori seemed a lot more composed now than she had been before, but even so, her voice remained timid. She had only mentioned that the band disbanded—without explaining why—leaving Anon unsure of how to comfort her.
"So, what roles did you and Kyo have in the band?" Anon asked curiously.
Back in middle school, she had been in a band too—and not just any member, but the standout lead guitarist and vocalist!
"I played rhythm guitar, and Tomori was the vocalist," Kyo answered for them. She didn't mind Anon learning more about CRYCHIC. "Oh, and for reference, Sakiko was the keyboardist."
"Tomori was the vocalist?"
Anon covered her mouth in surprise, then quickly realized how rude that might have seemed and hurriedly apologized.
"Sorry, Tomori, I didn't mean it like that…"
Tomori shook her head. She wasn't offended. If anything, she had always doubted her own singing ability.
"You don't need to apologize, Ano-chan… I really don't sing that well. At first, I couldn't even get a sound out, and after our first live, people said I wasn't good…"
"That's not true! Tomori, your voice is so nice—there must be so many people who love it!"
Anon truly believed that.
Tomori's voice was always soft and quiet, but if you listened closely, it had a delicate, heartwarming quality—an adorable sound that made people want to protect her.
"I bet you'd be perfect for the parts Mana sings in sumimi—those super sweet songs!"
Anon clapped her hands together as an idea struck her—she thought of one of her favorite idol groups. Their girly, cutesy style seemed like a perfect match for Tomori's voice.
"Su… mimi…?"
Tomori tilted her head slightly, unfamiliar with the name. Even though she was happy to receive such praise from Anon, she was caught off guard by the sudden mention of something she didn't recognize.
"You don't know them, Tomori?! sumimi's debut song was huge! And recently, I think they've even collaborated with some big names in the entertainment industry. They're super popular right now!"
Anon turned eagerly to Kyo.
"Kyo, you know them, right? sumimi is totally the kind of group that high school girls would love, isn't it?"
"Is that so?"
Having figured out Anon's love for keeping up with trends, Kyo deliberately pretended to be clueless. She watched in amusement as Anon clutched her head in despair, questioning her entire existence, before finally chuckling and saying:
"Well, the two members of sumimi are indeed quite wonderful people."
Anon was a fan of sumimi, yet she didn't know that the person working with them was none other than Kyo's mother, Kikukawa Shuku?
Then again, it made sense. Anon had probably started listening to sumimi's songs purely because she liked trendy, flashy things, and only then had she become a fan. If that was her motivation, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to look into them in more detail.
After all, if she had known, she would have excitedly shouted out the moment she first heard Kyo's name.
Anon, however, quickly picked up on the odd phrasing in Kyo's words.
"Wait a sec—why did you say 'the two members of sumimi' instead of just 'sumimi'? Does that mean you've met them in person?!"
If there's a chance… could you introduce me to them? If I could meet them, I'd be the most popular person in school—!
Before she could even finish the thought, Tomori whimpered softly, the only one here completely lost.
"Kyo and Ano-chan… are talking about something I don't know about…"
Anon immediately panicked, scrambling to comfort Tomori. In her flustered state, she turned to Kyo, silently begging for help—
"This is your own fault for getting carried away. Good luck."
The merciless water spirit simply sipped leisurely from her thermos, entirely unbothered by the sight of the pink-haired retriever flailing in distress as the little penguin clung to her.
Heh. Now someone else knows what it's like to be trapped.
Anon really is useful. So, so useful.