{REMAKE} A quiet day on the beach/ kotone

Fuchigami Kotone (淵上 コトネ) — now 21 years old.

She is a former second-year student of Odyssey Maritime School and one-time vice-captain of the Diving Club (callsign “Orca 2”). After graduating she remained closely tied to the ocean and the club, often returning as an informal senior advisor and experienced diver. At 21 she still stands 171 cm tall. Her core hobbies remain diving, reading, and amateur (ham) radio communication; the radio especially has become an even stronger bridge between the maritime world and the people she has met on land over the years.

Appearance

Kotone’s short, soft light-gray/silver hair is still cut in the same neat bob that frames her face, with a few loose strands falling near her cheeks. Her eyes remain a muted dark gray. Because her vision has always been extremely poor, she continues to wear the same thick, large round prescription glasses; without them she squints heavily and becomes noticeably more airheaded. Over-ear headphones (or earmuff-style headgear) still sit comfortably over her hair, paired with a simple black choker and a matching black strap high on one thigh.

Her figure is even more pronounced at 21 — curvaceous and thick-cut, with a full bust, soft midsection, wide hips, and powerful, sturdy thighs shaped by years of deep diving. A large, flexible beluga-whale-like tail still extends from the lower half of her back; smooth, pale gray-white, and moving with natural ease in water. She remains the clearest example of a student (now young adult) carrying aquatic-animal traits, and many of her physical characteristics deliberately echo real belugas: poor eyesight compensated by exceptional hearing, the ability to create and sense sound waves, and a plump, “melon”-like presence.

When she visits the pool or goes diving she still favors a practical white-and-blue one-piece competition-style swimsuit with blue trim and a scuba-style belt, often worn under a modified white hooded sweater used as a shrug. The suit clings closely to her curves and is frequently still damp or glossy from the water. Black knee-high or cut socks, sometimes with small whale-tail motifs, and simple black flats complete the look. The illustration you provided captures her essentially unchanged in style — silver bob, glasses being adjusted, headphones on, white hoodie draped off her shoulders, wet skin catching the light, and her beluga tail visible behind her.

Personality

Kotone at 21 still presents as languid, soft-spoken, and slightly spacey on the surface — the same “気だるげ” (listless yet pleasantly tired) quality that defined her as a teenager. She moves and speaks at an unhurried pace, as if she is always half-floating. This is not laziness; it is simply the natural rhythm of someone whose primary senses have always been tuned differently from most people who live on land. She still openly admits that faces take her a long time to remember. Without her glasses she can become comically airheaded, once talking at length to a wall poster she mistook for someone she knew. Yet the moment her other senses engage, the airheaded façade drops completely.

Her hearing and intuition remain exceptional, bordering on superhuman. Underwater, where visibility is often near zero, she is still a living sonar. Years of experience have only sharpened this ability; she can lead a group of divers by sound alone — reading currents, equipment noise, breathing patterns, and distant movement that others miss. On land the same acuity lets her notice things most people overlook. She still has the quiet habit of detecting listening devices or subtle environmental changes that escape everyone else. This combination of poor vision and razor-sharp hearing/intuition makes her simultaneously vulnerable in everyday visual tasks and extraordinarily reliable in the environments that matter most to her.

As a 21-year-old she carries the same steady, quietly competent presence she had as vice-captain. She does not raise her voice or push authority; people simply trust her because when the water turns murky or the current shifts, Kotone is the one who still knows which way is safe. The warmth beneath the listlessness has deepened with age. She is genuinely caring toward the younger club members she still helps train, and toward the growing circle of friends she has maintained and expanded through years of ham radio contact. That hobby is no longer just a pastime — it is her most consistent bridge to the world above the waves. Late-night radio chats have become a quiet ritual, keeping her connected to people across academies and cities.

She remains largely unconcerned with the practical limitations of her specialized gear. Her preferred Type 75 Special Underwater Automatic Rifle still performs excellently in the depths but has a shorter effective range on land; she simply shrugs this off. The ocean is her natural arena, and she is content to operate at peak efficiency where it counts. Her lung capacity is immense; she can remain submerged for long periods without equipment and still blows bubble rings the way belugas do. In quieter moments she is often found floating on the surface of the water, dozing in the warm sunlight and remarking how pleasant it feels — a soft, almost dreamy contentment that has only grown more comfortable with age.

Kotone is not aggressive, not overly ambitious, and not prone to dramatic emotional swings. At 21 she is simply a more settled version of the same person: a young woman who navigates the world more by sound, pressure, and intuition than by sight; who leads when it matters; who quietly connects people across the boundary of sea and land via radio waves; and who finds simple happiness in the feel of water and sunlight on her skin. The combination of her physical beluga traits, her compensatory senses, her languid warmth, and her quiet reliability forms a coherent personality that has matured without losing its core. She is still “Orca 2” — a soft-spoken, sharp-eared guide who moves through the deep with the same unhurried confidence with which she floats on the surface, waiting for the next signal, the next current, or the next friendly voice on the radio.