A corner of my heart catches the tail of an impossible conclusion.

“Is this…? Could we be…?”

“Is this seriously…?”

I’m holed up in my room, staring at my phone in denial. For a while now, my fingers have been shaking as if they partly belong to somebody else as I scroll through the entries in my journal app. Sandwiched between the ones I wrote, there are several headers I don’t remember.

First Harajuku-Omotesando panini-rama! / At Odaiba aquarium with two boys / Observation platform tour and flea market / Visited father’s workplace Kasumigaseki District!

A corner of my mind catches the tail of an inconceivable conclusion.

Could this be…?

In my dreams, are this girl and I—

In my dreams, are this boy and I—

—switching bodies?!

The sun rises from the edge of the mountains. Little by little, the daylight washes over the lake town. The birds in the morning, the hush at midday, the insect songs in the evening, the glitter of the night sky.

The sun rises between the buildings. Little by little, the daylight glints off countless windows. The throngs of people in the morning, the hum of midday, the scents of everyday life at half-light, the sparkle of the streets at night.

Over and over, we’re captivated by moments like these.

And, gradually, we learn.

Taki Tachibana—Taki—is a high school kid my age who lives in Tokyo, and…

At irregular intervals, unexpectedly, two or three times a week, I swap bodies with Mitsuha Miyamizu, who lives way out in the sticks. It triggers when we fall asleep. We have no idea what causes it.

Our memories of the time we spend switched fade as soon as we wake up. It feels like a lucid dream.

Even so, we’re definitely swapping. The reactions of the people around us prove it more than anything.

Now that we’re aware that we are actually switching with each other, we’re starting to hold on to bits of memories from the dreams. For example, at this point, even when I’m awake, I know there’s a boy named Taki who lives in Tokyo.

Now I’m positive there’s a girl named Mitsuha living in a country town somewhere. I don’t have any solid evidence or rational explanation, but I have this strange sense that tells me it’s real.

We’ve also started communicating with each other. On the days when we switch, we leave diary entries or notes on each other’s smartphones.

We’ve tried texting and calling, too, but for some reason, neither of us could get through. Anyway, we’re lucky we figured out a way to communicate at all. We both need to keep each other’s lives intact and undisturbed… So we set rules.