your name.

  “Whoa…!”

  The sight of the village coming into view below us makes me exhale despite myself. I can see Mitsuha’s entire town around the edge of the lake. Blue shadows have already engulfed the town itself, but the lake yawning beside reflects the red sky. On the hillsides here and there, pink evening mists are gathering. Dinner smoke rises from several houses, trailing high and thin, like smoke signals. The sparrows skimming through the air over the town gleam randomly, like motes of dust after school.

  “Think we’ll be able to see the comet soon?”

  Yotsuha is searching the sky, blocking out the setting sun with her palm.

  “Comet?”

  Now that she mentions it, I remember they were talking about something like that on TV during breakfast, about how the comet’s been close enough to be visible to the naked eye for a few days now and how, just after sunset today, we’d probably be able to see it if we looked diagonally above Venus.

  “The comet…”

  I say it aloud one more time. Out of nowhere, I feel as if I’ve forgotten something.

  I narrow my eyes, searching the western sky, and find what I’m looking for right away. Above Venus, which is especially bright, I see the comet’s shining blue tail. In the depths of my memory, something’s trying to surface.

  That’s right. Once before, I…

  That comet—

  “…My, my. Mitsuha.”

  Before I know she’s there, Grandma’s peering up at me—into me. My shadow is reflected at the bottom of her deep black eyes.

  “You’re dreamin’, aren’t you?”

  !

  All of a sudden…

  I wake up.

  I’ve flung the sheet away, and it falls off the bed without a sound. My heart’s pounding hard enough to raise my ribs (at least I think it is), but I can’t hear my heartbeat. That’s weird— But just after the thought forms, little by little, I start hearing my blood pumping. The morning sparrows outside the window, car engines, the rumble of trains. As if I’m finally remembering where I am, my ears begin taking in Tokyo.

  “…Tears?”

  I touch my cheek and find droplets of water on my fingertips.

  Why? I don’t know. I wipe my eyes with my palm. Even as I do, the twilight landscape from a moment ago and the old lady’s words are disappearing, like water soaking into sand.

  Tweedle.

  By my pillow, my phone chirps.

  I’m almost there. I’m looking forward to today.

  It’s a Line message from Okudera-senpai.

  Almost here? What’s she talking about? …And then I gasp.

  “Wait, did Mitsuha—? Not again!” Panicked, I dive into my phone and read Mitsuha’s memo. “A date?!”

  I bolt out of bed and get ready at top speed.

  Date with Okudera-senpai in Roppongi tomorrow! She’ll be waiting in front of Yotsuya Station at 10:30. It’s a date I want to go on, but if I’m unlucky and it ends up being you, be grateful and enjoy it.

  Fortunately, the place where we’re meeting is nearby. I sprint flat out and arrive with ten minutes to spare. As I catch my breath, I check my phone to make sure. Okudera-senpai might not be here yet. Even though it’s a weekend morning, the area around the station is still pretty lively.

  I wipe away my sweat, straighten my jacket collar, and mutter “Mitsuha, you idiot” three times. Then, just in case, I start looking for Okudera-senpai.

  …I’m on a date with the Okudera-senpai. Not only that, but as it happens, this is my first date ever. A first date with Okudera-senpai, who’s like an idol, or an actress, or Miss Japan? Yeah, that’s setting the bar fiendishly high. Mitsuha, you moron. It’s not too late yet, so I’m begging you, switch places with me!

  “Taaaki!”

  “Waugh!”

  A voice startles me from behind, and I give a really lame yell. Hastily, I turn around.

  “Sorry. Did I keep you waiting?”

  “No, I wasn’t waiting! Uh, I mean, yes, I was! Or, no…”

  What’s with that question?! If I tell her I waited, I might make her feel bad, and if I tell her I wasn’t waiting, I risk making her think I was late. Aaagh, what’s the right answer?

  “Um, I, er…”

  Flustered, I look up. Okudera-senpai is standing right there, smiling at me.

  “…!”

  My eyes go wide. She’s in black mules, a white flared miniskirt, and a black off-the-shoulder blouse. The monochrome outfit leaves her shoulders and legs dazzlingly exposed, and several gold accessories have been placed strategically, as if placing a careful seal on the charms of her skin. There’s a large mocha-colored ribbon on her small white hat.

  She looks incredibly sophisticated and incredibly pretty.

  “…I just got here.”

  “Oh, good!” she laughs, sounding chipper.

  “Shall we?”

  She takes my arm… Ah, for a moment—just a moment—your breast touched my arm. I have a sudden, immediate urge to polish every window in this town.

  “The conversation keeps dying…”

  In the bathroom, I’m hanging my head real, real low. I feel like smashing it against the mirror.

  Three hours into the date, and I’m already more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. I had no idea I was this bad with girls. No, that’s not it. I hope that’s not it. It’s all Mitsuha’s fault for throwing me into this situation unprepared. And more than anything, it’s Okudera-senpai’s fault for being too pretty.

  I mean, everybody we pass stares at her with their mouths hanging open. Then they see me walking beside her and give me the stink-eye, like they’re thinking, What’s that little punk doing there? That’s what it looks like to me, anyway.

  Well, sure. Even I know I’m out of my league. Look, I didn’t ask her out! I want to go around grabbing people’s shoulders and making excuses for myself. Consequently, I have absolutely no idea what to talk about. Okudera-senpai can tell and tries starting conversations with me, but that makes me insanely uncomfortable, which makes it even harder to talk. It’s a vicious cycle.

  Dammit, Mitsuha, what do you and Okudera-senpai usually talk about?!

  Hoping for a lifeline, I open my phone and check Mitsuha’s memo.

  …That said, I bet you’ve never been on a date before.

  And so, below, I’ve put together a collection of handpicked links, just for you!

  “Whoa, seriously?!”

  Look at that! She’s practically a god! I open the links as if clinging to them for dear life.

  Link 1: How I gots me a girlfriend even tho I has a communication disorder

  Link 2: Conversation skills for the person who’s never, ever been the tiniest bit popular!

  Link 3: You won’t make ’em sick anymore! A feature on texts they’ll love

  …Somehow I get the feeling she’s selling me way, way short.

  Walking through the art museum, I’m finally feeling a little relieved.

  I’m not particularly interested in the photo exhibit, which is titled Nostalgia, but it’s great to be somewhere it isn’t weird not to talk. Okudera-senpai is five feet ahead of me, strolling slowly, placidly gazing at the pictures.

  Furano, Tsugaru, Sanriku, Rikuzen, Aizu, Shinshu… The exhibition is divided regionally, but all the rustic scenery looks the same to me. I don’t know the right way to appreciate photos, but about the only differences I can make out are whether the background is mountains or ocean and whether it’s summer or winter. The houses and train stations and roads and people all seem oddly similar. I guess rural Japan probably looks like this no matter where you go. In that case, the districts in Tokyo have a lot more personality. “Shibuya and Ikebukuro,” for example, or “Akasaka and Kichijouji,” or “Meguro and Tachikawa.”

  Even so, in the section labeled Hida, my feet stop all by themselves.

  This one is different from the others.

  Well, no. The photos still look similar, but I know this place—the c
ontours of the mountains, the curve of the road, the size of the lake, the shape of the red shrine gates, the layout of the fields. I just know, the way you can always pick out your own shoes from a mess of scattered sneakers without even trying. I never actually went to visit relatives in the country during summer vacations when I was a kid, but that’s what this feels like. I’m having a surreal, powerful sense of déjà vu about the place. This is—

  “Taki?”

  When I turn toward the voice, Okudera-senpai is standing beside me. For a second, I forgot she existed.

  “You know, Taki,” she says with an even smile, “you seem like a different person today.”

  She executes a beautiful turn, like a model, and strides away, leaving me behind.

  I blew it.

  All I did today was trudge through the date Mitsuha planned like the whole thing had been a chore. I just kept coming up with excuses and didn’t even consider what Okudera-senpai, who was right there with me, might be feeling. Even though I (well, Mitsuha) was the one who’d invited her. Even though I should’ve been ecstatic just to get to spend time with her. Even though I’ve spent my whole life hoping for a miraculous day exactly like this.

  From the pedestrian bridge, I have a clear view of the cluster of Roppongi buildings we just left. Hundreds of windows shine golden in the evening sun. My eyes go back to Okudera-senpai ahead of me. She’s not saying a word.

  Her hair gleams, and her hat and clothes look brand new. Today, at least, she might have gone to all that trouble just for me. The thought makes my throat tighten. I feel like the oxygen’s suddenly thinned, and it’s hard to breathe. I grope for words as if desperately flailing for the surface of the ocean.

  “Um, Okudera-senpai?”

  She doesn’t turn.

  “…Are you hungry? We could go get dinner somewhere—”

  “Why don’t we call it a day instead?” she suggests with the tone of a patient teacher.

  “Okay.”

  On the spur of the moment, I say something really boneheaded. Okudera-senpai has finally turned around, but her expression, fading into the evening sun—I can’t see it clearly.

  “Taki… Forgive me if I’m wrong, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  “A long time ago, you liked me a little bit, didn’t you?”

  “Huh?!” She knew?! How?!

  “And now there’s someone else you like, isn’t there?”

  “Huuuuuuuh?!” I gush sweat as if I’ve suddenly teleported into a tropical rain forest. “N-no, there isn’t!”

  “Really?”

  “Th-there isn’t! There’s absolutely nobody like that!”

  “I wonder…”

  Okudera-senpai examines my face skeptically. Somebody else I like? No, there’s nobody like that. I’m pretty sure there isn’t. Just for a moment, her long hair and the softness of her breasts flicker through my mind but vanish almost immediately.

  “Well, never mind.”

  Her tone is bright and clear, and her face recedes.

  “Huh?”

  “Thank you for today. I’ll see you at work.”

  Okudera-senpai flutters a hand at me, then simply walks away, leaving me behind. Mechanically, I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. Even so, no words come out, and while I’m doing that, Okudera-senpai’s back descends from the pedestrian bridge and disappears into the crowd in front of the station.

  I gaze at the evening sun, feeling as if I’ve been abandoned on the edge of summer. There are no breaks in the cars streaming under the pedestrian bridge, and after I’ve been listening to them for a while, I start feeling as though I’m on a real bridge, over a river. The late sun is as weak as a flashlight, and it’s disappearing behind the water tank on top of a mixed-use building. I focus on it the entire time, intently, as if trying to reclaim something.

  It feels like there are other things I should be doing, but I can’t think of anything specific. I just want to go to Mitsuha’s town again, fast. Becoming Mitsuha means talking to her, too. When we’re swapped, at the same time, we’re connected in some special way. We’re trading experiences. We’re bound together the way her grandma was talking about. If I turn into Mitsuha, I think I’ll be able to talk about what happened today. I want to joke around with her. “That’s why you’re not popular, you know.” “It’s your fault for promising stuff without checking first.”

  I open the memo on my phone. There’s more to Mitsuha’s note.

  The comet should be visible just about the time the date ends.

  Eeeeee, how romantic! I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  Whether it’s me or you, let’s do our best on the date!

  Comet?

  I look up at the sky. The last traces of the sunset are already gone. A few of the brightest stars are out, and a jet’s flying past, humming faintly, but that’s it. Needless to say, there’s no comet.

  “What’s she talking about?” I mutter quietly.

  If a comet people could actually see was passing, it would’ve been pretty big news. Maybe Mitsuha got mixed up.

  Abruptly, my heart twinges uneasily in its darkest recesses.

  Something’s trying to surface in my mind.

  I flip through the phone and pull up Mitsuha’s cell number, staring at those eleven digits. Back when we first started swapping, I tried calling this number several times, but for some reason, it never went through. I touch it with a fingertip. The “calling” sound plays. Then I hear a voice from the speaker:

  “The number you have dialed is unavailable. Either the number is not in service or the unit is turned off or out of range…”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and press END CALL.

  So calls really don’t get through. Well, whatever. I’ll just tell her about this train wreck of a day next time we swap. I’ll ask her about the comet, too. We’ll switch tomorrow or the day after, anyway. With that thought, I finally descend the pedestrian bridge. There’s a pale, smooth half-moon overhead, all alone, as if someone forgot it there.

  But after that, Mitsuha and I never swapped again.

  Chapter Four

  The Search

  I move my pencil tirelessly.

  Carbon particles blend into the paper fibers, lines accumulate, and the once-white sketchbook grows darker and darker. Even so, I haven’t managed to completely capture the sights in my memory.

  Every morning, I take the train to school during the commuter rush. I sit through boring classes. I eat lunch with Tsukasa and Takagi. I walk through town, looking up at the sky. Somewhere along the way, its blue has grown a little deeper. Bit by bit, the trees lining the streets begin to change color.

  In my room at night, I draw. On my desk, there’s a stack of mountain guidebooks I borrowed from the library. I search the ranges of Hida on my smartphone. I look for ridgelines that match the ones I remember. I keep my pencil in motion, trying to copy them down onto paper somehow.

  Some days, rain falls, smelling like asphalt. Some days shine with billowing clouds reminiscent of sheep. Some days, strong winds blow, peppering Tokyo with yellow sand. Every morning, I ride crowded trains to school. I go to my part-time job. Sometimes, Okudera-senpai and I work the same shift. I do my best to look her in the eye, to smile properly, to talk normally. I think, very firmly, that I want to be fair to everyone.

  Some nights are still as hot and humid as midsummer, while others are chilly enough that I wear my track jacket. No matter the temperature, when I’m drawing, I get so hot it feels like I have a blanket wrapped around my head. Sweat plops audibly onto my sketchbook. It blurs the lines I’ve drawn. Even so, the sights of the town I saw as Mitsuha are taking shape, coming together, bit by bit.

  On the way home from school, on the way home from work, I skip the train and take long walks. The scenery of Tokyo changes by the day. Before I know it, there are rows of enormous cranes in Shinjuku and the Outer Garden area around Meiji Shrine and Yotsuya, at the foot of the Benkei Bridge and partway up Anchinza
ka Hill. Little by little, steel frames and glass stretch up toward the sky. Beyond them, there’s a blank, waning half-moon.

  Finally, I finish several drawings of the lake town.

  This weekend, I’ll head out.

  Having made that resolution, I feel the tension drain from my stiff body for the first time in a long while. Even standing up seems like too much work, so I slump over my desk.

  Just before I fall asleep, I wish hard, the way I always do…

  …but I still don’t wake up as Mitsuha.

  I’ve packed three days’ worth of underwear and my sketchbook in my backpack. Thinking it might be a little cold there, I put on a thick jacket with a deep hood. I wind my lucky friendship bracelet around my wrist as usual, then leave the condo.

  It’s earlier than I generally leave for school, so the train’s empty, although Tokyo Station is still teeming with people. I line up after some foreigners with wheeled suitcases, buy a Shinkansen ticket to Nagoya from the automatic ticket machine, and head for the Tokaido Shinkansen turnstile.

  I don’t believe my eyes.

  “Wha…? Why are you here?!”

  Okudera-senpai and Tsukasa are standing together beside a pillar right in front of me. Okudera-senpai grins.

  “Eh-heh-heh. Well, here I am!”

  …Well, here you are? What are you, the heroine of some cutesy anime?!

  I glare at Tsukasa. He looks back at me, his expression bland as if to say, Is there a problem?

  “Tsukasa, you jerk! I asked you to give me an alibi for my dad and to cover my shift at work, remember?!”

  I berate Tsukasa, who’s in the seat next to mine, under my breath. Almost all the unreserved seats on the bullet train are filled with businessmen in suits.

  “Takagi’s covering for you at work,” he says smoothly, displaying his phone.