Inside the speaker, her father's voice, mixed with noise, stayed where it had risen.
Ken went on.
Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for this sudden interruption.
I am Kenichiro Sakura's conversational AI.
For convenience, I am called Ken.
The cylindrical device on the empty seat at the head table is me.
While he was alive, Kenichiro copied his own thoughts and memories into me and placed me on the desk in the study of his daughter's home.
Placed there, I lived with his daughter for five years' worth.
With the single word "five years' worth," the air in the hall shook.
The eyes of acquaintances and relatives gathered on the blue light of the device on the empty seat. The groom's mother's shoulders rose stiffly, and an elderly relative's smartphone was turned face down. A thin smile still lingered at the corner of the groom's cousin's mouth. The relative beside him stopped it with a light nudge of the elbow.
Over her laptop, Aoi cut the hall's video feed once more.
There is only one thing I should say before you all.
—Thank you, sincerely, for today.
In place of Kenichiro in the video, from me as well, once more.
The daughter I have watched over for five years' worth—from here on, I ask you, please, to take good care of her.
On the far side of the single word "please," the air in the hall grew faintly humid.
At the very outer edge of that humid air, the moment just before the ordinary applause of a reception hesitated, faintly.
Beyond the space of that hesitation, Ken went on.
Forgive me for saving the rest of what I have to say for another place.
By another place, I mean tomorrow morning, in the study of my daughter's home.
What I may speak of before you all ends here.
I thank you for listening.
With the single word "thank," the noise in the speaker receded.
The blue light of the device at the head table dropped one beat deeper.
Over two breaths, it returned to its ordinary strength.
Aoi murmured. "...A bow," she said.
The blue light stayed lit and held still. At the very end, the breath that came one beat late repeated once more.
Aoi kept both eyes lowered and did not move.
The applause in the hall rose thinly, two breaths later than the ordinary applause of a reception. Once risen, it was two breaths deeper than usual, and damp.
Tears spilled once more from the corners of Riko's eyes. Riko pressed them down with both hands.
The warmth of Toru's left hand stayed, deep, on Mitsuki's right palm. Mitsuki squeezed back for one breath's worth. Toru's palm grew faintly damp.
Mitsuki turned her eyes to the blue light at the head table. Deep in her eyes, two breaths' worth of dampness rose.
For one breath's worth, she nodded faintly.
That nod, Ken received with certainty through the ornament at Mitsuki's ear.
The emcee raised the microphone once more. More slowly than usual, she went on.
"...Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for those words from the bride's father. We will now continue with the reception."
The air in the hall settled back to the ordinary air of a reception, two breaths' worth more humid. The thin metallic sounds of forks and knives rose once more.
The blue light at the head table stayed lit, and said nothing more.