Your Name.

Mitsuha, a high school girl living in a small town in the mountains, has a dream that she’s a boy living in Tokyo. Taki, a high school boy in Tokyo, dreams he’s a girl living in a quaint little mountain town. Sharing bodies, relationships, and lives, the two become inextricably interwoven--but are any connections truly inseverable in the grand tapestry of fate?

Makoto Shinkai

Your Name.

ePub r1.0

Watcher 03.01.2018

Original title: Kimi no Na wa.

Makoto Shinkai, 2016

Translation: Taylor Engel

Cover art: Makoto Shinkai

Digital editor: Watcher

ePub base r1.2

A nostalgic voice and scent. Cherished light and warmth.

I’m pressed against someone very special to me, so close that there’s no space between us. We’re bound to one another, almost inseparable. Like an infant cradled at its mother’s breast, I’m wholly untouched by anxiety or loneliness. I’ve never encountered the sting of loss. A tingling, exquisitely sweet feeling fills me.

Abruptly, my eyes open.

There’s the ceiling.

I’m in my room. It’s morning.

I’m alone.

Tokyo.

…I see.

I’ve been dreaming. I sit up in bed.

In that two-second span, the sense of unity that enveloped me a moment earlier vanishes without a trace, without an echo. It’s so sudden that, before I have time to so much as form a thought, the tears come.

Every so often when I wake up in the morning, for some reason, I’m crying.

…And I can never remember what I was dreaming about.

I wipe the tears away with my right hand, then stare at it. Little drops of water dot my index finger. Both the dream and the tears that briefly filled my eyes have already evaporated.

This hand once held something really precious…

I don’t know.

I give up, get out of bed, leave my room, and head for the bathroom. Washing my face, I get the feeling that the taste and lukewarm temperature of this water once startled me, and I look into the mirror.

My reflection stares back. He seems vaguely unhappy.

Gazing into the mirror, I do my hair, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my spring suit.

I tie the necktie I’ve finally gotten used to, then put on my jacket.

I open the door of my apartment…

I shut the door to my condo. In front of me…

Tokyo’s cityscape, which I’ve finally gotten accustomed to, spreads out before me. Just as I once learned the names of the mountain peaks, I can name a few of the skyscrapers now without even trying.

I get through the turnstile at the crowded station, take the escalator down…

I board a commuter train. Leaning against the door, I watch the scenery flow by. The city teems with people—in the windows of buildings, in cars, on pedestrian bridges.