Tomo smiled softly and shook her head slightly. "Well as long as I'm not taking to ghosts," she gave a tilted grin, brushing dark hair behind her ear. She could hear him blowing rings of smoke and she just sighed in momentary defeat. Was his existence so cruel to him then? He mentioned dying many times, but there were often kids their age and younger who were not expected to live long. Death was terrifying. It was why people hated it so much. To not exist anymore... even she was scared of something so unknown like that. But maybe Ueda had more reasons for being this way. She wasn't him, so maybe she'd never know, but it didn't calm her anxiety of wanting to at least help or comfort him somehow. She of all people knew how much it hurt to feel like your completely alone.

The breeze slipped in and she closed her eyes. It was a cool caress and it was very comforting. It reminded her of home. Opening her eyes, she turned her face to Ueda. He sounded amused when he said he wished he could see things like her and she smirked, almost offended. But it was natural for some people to get a bit well like this. People thought she was a dollish little princess, oh-so-perfect and could-do-no-wrong Tomohina. She knew what people thought of her. But if they thought that they didn't know her at all. She just refused to let them see her cry out the ashes of her heart. No one was allowed to see that dark side of her. No one.

"I won't make you do anything, Nobuyuki-san," she murmured gently, "You can be whoever you like. I'll still see you as my Imaginary Friend." Her voice was warm and kind, like it always was, but for some reason seemed more tender than usual. He could speak nonsense and philosophy, and she'd still want to talk to him. It was just how she was. She'd rather people be strange and truthful, than plastic liars. Tomo found that kind of darkness rather fascinating. He changed the subject quickly, neatly and she smiled. He wanted to forget, so she wouldn't make him remember. He asked her if she was going to play the piano and she ran her fingers over the keys once more, entranced by their silky ivory.

"Well since you are so insistent, my 'loyal subject'," she said a bit dryly, but laughed gently, "If my Imaginary Friend wants me to, I guess I really should, though I'm not nearly as good as you." Her fingers slowly traced over the keys and she closed her eyes, her head arching her neck to the side. The sound of pianos, the feel of them under her fingers, it was closest she had ever gotten to being touched in a loving way. It was just as achingly beautiful as when she was all alone in that cold manor. Her own gilded cage, the music her own way of flying. But she couldn't just be satisfied with playing. Instead she sang. While her natural language made her voice sweet as sugar, in english her voice held a sad kind of brass to it's sweetness. Haunting and enticing, she reveled in the sound of her own voice, floating, flying, free. 

She played [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PIzy4EnbVM]"Lights"[/url] on that dusty piano, arching and aching as if she wished she could feel what the original singer had felt. And maybe in a way she felt how they had. These were her childhood friends, songs of singers she could never see. But her Imaginary Friend could see her. While she didn't show people that dark side of her, her voice always gave away her secret when she sang. It was why she'd sing in other language. To try and hide it the best she could. Because the feeling of absolute and pure freedom when singing was to good to give up.