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 contours 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—