Still in Kikukawa Kyo's peculiar little world, the two continued their discussion on the finer details of their "contract."
"Let's sit down and take our time... Ah, Sakiko, you should sit on the bed," Kyo said as she saw Sakiko about to take a seat at the aquarium table. She stopped her. "If you sit there, I'll end up staring at the fish while we talk and probably get distracted."
After spending some time with Kyo, Sakiko had begun to understand her odd quirks. With a resigned sigh, she carefully adjusted her position in the small room and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I love water because touching it, in any form, brings me an innate sense of joy and tranquility. It doesn't matter how I interact with it or what kind of water it is—the only difference is the intensity of emotion it evokes."
"But when the water is connected to someone else—like the tea you just made—I can also sense a part of the emotions they infused into it."
"…That seriously sounds like some weird setting you just made up, Kyo."
"How rude."
"Sorry, but it really does sound strange."
Kyo pouted and wagged her finger in disapproval.
"Actually, this isn't something exclusive to me. Even ordinary people experience it."
"When someone is sick, and another person makes them a bowl of ginger tea, the patient naturally feels the warmth and care in that tea, right?"
"The only difference is that for me, those emotions can be carried by any medium—and I just happen to be far more sensitive to water than anything else."
Sakiko, though still feeling like something was off, found herself somewhat convinced.
Still, this explanation didn't address the real question—why did Kyo want to use water from Sakiko as part of their deal?
"Wait... Kyo, does this mean you're actually just curious about people's emotions? If what you're getting out of this deal is insight into someone's thoughts, then…"
The idea of someone peering into her inner world made Sakiko deeply uncomfortable. Right now, she wished she could lock herself away completely, refusing to let anyone see the twisted mess inside her.
But Kyo showed no hesitation in the face of Sakiko's doubts. She met her gaze directly, answering with calm certainty.
"You asked me earlier if my goal today was to bring you back—to bring CRYCHIC back."
"For me, the band is just something I joined for fun. But at the same time, I don't want it to end."
"Because this was an attempt—"
"An attempt to find something that could drive me forward."
"An attempt to make my life more than just a stagnant pool of water."
After saying this, Kyo suddenly shifted topics.
"Sakiko, you must be familiar with my last name, right?"
Sakiko nodded.
To her, and to anyone involved with the band, the name Kikukawa was most commonly associated with the author Kikukawa Shuku.
Though called a writer, Kikukawa Shuku wasn't limited to literature—she was accomplished in painting, music, and film, a true polymath recognized in the entertainment world. It wasn't uncommon to see her name in the credits of a movie, as a guest on variety shows, as the curator of an art exhibition, as the composer of a hit song, or even performing on stage herself.
And one of the most well-known stories in the industry was that Kikukawa Shuku had a daughter—one who had inherited talent on par with her own.
Kikukawa Kyo.
"In my short years of life, I've studied many things—novels, dance, painting, even programming and mathematics."
"Each of them had their own unique appeal. At first, I found them all fascinating. But before long, I reached a level that most people would call exceptional—and I did it in a fraction of the time that others dedicated their lives to."
"It was too easy. So easy that it became boring."
"I know I've only ever reached an ordinary level of excellence in each field. There's always a higher realm beyond that. But I also know—if I just put in the time, I could get there eventually."
"It makes no difference what I do. Everything ends up the same."
Sakiko listened as Kyo spoke with what could only be described as arrogance, yet her expression remained calm, as if it were merely the reality of her existence.
A reality where talent itself became a curse.
"So... you agreed to join the band because of this?"
"Yes."
"...I don't get it."
Kyo chuckled.
Her usual lazy, carefree demeanor suddenly carried a different meaning in Sakiko's eyes.
"But it's not all that bad," Kyo continued. "I still have things that bring me enjoyment. You already know what one of them is."
"Though, I admit, my hobby is a bit unusual. It's almost like using one anomaly to counter another, like fighting poison with poison."
Sakiko took a deep breath, sorting through the overwhelming amount of information Kyo had just unloaded.
So, because of her departure, the change Kyo had sought—the one thing that kept her engaged—was vanishing along with the band.
And in its place, Kyo now wanted her to provide a new source of "flowing water."
"...So you understand now, don't you?" Kyo said, watching Sakiko carefully.
"This is important to me. Important enough to be considered a fair trade."
...
In the end, Sakiko chose to accept the deal. She needed a job that would not only support her but also allow her to improve herself. And Kyo was looking forward to adding more unpredictability to her life.
Each had something to gain.
Once bound by the band, their connection was now shaped by necessity—yet, strangely, it felt as if they had grown even closer.
"I just sent you the bookstore's address. Since it's my sister's shop, you'll still need to go through a short interview with her."
At some point, the rain outside had stopped, and Sakiko's clothes had finished drying. After changing back, she prepared to leave. Kyo walked her to the entrance.
"You shouldn't have any issues. You're capable—I believe you'll get exactly what you want."
"Thank you, Kyo."
For the first time in a long while, Sakiko's smile was genuine. Solving the issue of her part-time job lifted a huge weight off her chest.
"Besides our deal, I'll make sure to repay you for helping me today."
Kyo watched as Sakiko stepped out of the apartment, her figure gradually disappearing around the corridor's corner. Once the door shut, she let out a quiet sigh.
So exhausting.
"Can't believe I managed to come up with an excuse that could fool Sakiko so quickly…"
That's right—convincing Sakiko to accept her help had required Kyo to fabricate a half-truth on the spot.
She could perceive emotions through water. That part was real. It was only after drinking the Darjeeling tea Sakiko had made that Kyo truly confirmed—Sakiko would never accept what she saw as mere "charity." And so, she had lied.
As for her claim that her life was like stagnant water… that was only half true. Kyo's innate talent had made many things feel dull, but there were still areas she found genuinely enjoyable—such as theater and mixology. Those two alone were enough to keep her entertained.
But the biggest lie was the one she had carefully kept hidden—why she had truly insisted on making this deal with Sakiko.
After sending Sakiko off, Kyo casually poured herself another glass of water, her throat parched from all the convincing she had done. Then, she turned and walked toward a room adjacent to her own.
From the moment she met Sakiko, Kyo had sensed that her upbringing wouldn't allow her to enter rooms without permission—even in the state she was in now, that habit wouldn't change.
That's why Kyo had felt at ease leaving this particular room off-limits while she bathed. It wasn't something she wanted Sakiko—or anyone else—to see.
"Although, looking at it now… more than just family etiquette, it seems like pride is the biggest defining trait of Sakiko's emotions."
"Hm. My assessment was a little off."
Kyo pushed open the door to the secretive room.
Inside, it looked like a perfectly ordinary study—except for one thing. Against one wall stood a large, movable whiteboard.
On its surface, neatly arranged like a detective's case board, were photographs of people Kyo had encountered recently.
Teachers, classmates, live house staff… Some photos were cropped from group shots, others were taken under the guise of casual photography, and a few were from angles that were clearly not meant for normal pictures.
Beneath each photo were notes—Kyo's impressions of them, observations of their daily habits, and instructions on how to "interact with them normally."
And at the center of it all, taking up the largest section of the board, were the five other members of CRYCHIC.
"Updating entries…"
Kyo picked up a pen and began adding today's discoveries—new aspects of Sakiko's personality and emotions, adjusting her prior assessments.
Once finished, she reviewed the entire "clue wall," nodding to herself.
Observe, learn, then imitate.
Today, too, Kikukawa Kyo continued her efforts—learning emotions, learning what it meant to be human.