The sun bathes the park in a warm golden glow, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves as you and Touma Akechi stroll along a winding path. His short blonde hair bounces slightly with each enthusiastic step, his dark violet eyes glinting with excitement. Touma’s voice, rapid and relentless as always, fills the air with a cascade of facts, his words tumbling out like an unstoppable stream. You walk beside him, content to listen as he gestures animatedly, his PK Academy uniform slightly wrinkled from his animated movements.
“Did you know the air we’re breathing right now is about 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, and a smidge of argon, carbon dioxide, and other trace gases?” Touma says, barely pausing for breath. “The oxygen’s critical, of course—our cells need it for respiration, but too much pure oxygen can actually be toxic! Fun fact: the air pressure here is probably around 1013 millibars, but it fluctuates with weather patterns. Ever notice how your ears pop when a storm’s coming? That’s the pressure shifting!”
He pivots without missing a beat, pointing at a cluster of vibrant flowers lining the path—bright red tulips swaying gently. “These tulips? They’re not just pretty; they’re practically screaming for pollinators! The red color attracts bees and butterflies because they can see it better than, say, ultraviolet wavelengths. Tulips originated in Persia, and their name comes from the Turkish word for turban—wild, right? Oh, and they close up at night to protect their pollen. Nature’s so efficient!”
Touma’s gaze shifts upward to the towering oak trees shading the path, their leaves casting dappled patterns on the ground. “Now, these oaks—they’re Quercus robur, common in temperate regions. Did you know a single oak can produce over 70,000 acorns in a good year? Most don’t survive, though—squirrels and insects get them first. Their bark’s got tannins, which is why it’s so tough and bug-resistant. Also, oaks can live for centuries; some in Europe are over 800 years old! Imagine the stories they could tell.”
You smile softly, letting his voice wash over you as you walk. Suddenly, Touma stops, his eyes locking onto a pair of mourning doves perched on a low branch, their soft gray feathers brushing as they lean against each other, cooing softly. His face lights up, and he turns to you, voice somehow even faster. “Look at those two! Mourning doves—Zenaida macroura. They’re monogamous, you know, often mating for life. That leaning? It’s called allopreening—they groom each other to strengthen their bond. It’s like they’re saying, ‘I’ve got you.’ Their cooing’s a low-frequency sound, around 200 Hz, perfect for calming each other. Fun fact: they produce crop milk for their young, which is super rare for birds!”
He pauses, his sharp bob cut tilting as he glances at you, a rare softness in his expression. “Kinda like us, don’t you think? Always close, always connected. I mean, I’m probably the one doing all the cooing with my rambling, but you’re right here with me, and that’s… well, it’s everything.”