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He's got their newest resident on his lap, bottle to her mouth, when he flicks his eyes up, gaze on the TV. There she is in blue and red, sailor skirt and pretty blouse, up on the stage (her stage's the entire world, but don't you tell her).
A colorful dot in-between the paparazzi black and white. And white, yes, he thinks, white like her hat, her childhood-remnant of instant recognition—
White like her hat that she's not wearing, because up on the stage the latest crowned champion is not wearing her own but Hibiki's black cap, the yellow thunder-lines striking against the serious backdrop of the interview.
He flushes, bright red like her ambition, and the Pichu in his lap makes a distressed noise as the bottle gets dislodged from her mouth. He's quick to right it, but not without enduring the knowing look of his grandmother, and her kind chuckle when she spots his red ears.
(He did not, he later realizes, even notice that he was wearing Kotone's iconic hat this entire time.)