Your Name. by Makoto Shinkai

Author:Makoto Shinkai [Shinkai, Makoto]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Novela, Drama, Fantástico, Juvenil
Publisher: ePubLibre
Published: 2016-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

Okudera-senpai and Tsukasa—

There’s a place I need to check, no matter what. Please go back to Tokyo ahead of me. I’m sorry for being selfish. I swear I’ll come back later. Thanks.

—Taki

I write a note. As an afterthought, I take a five-thousand-yen bill out of my wallet and put it under a teacup along with the memo.

We’ve never met, but I’m about to come looking for you.

He’s gruff and doesn’t say much, but he’s a really nice guy, I think, studying the sinewy hands on the steering wheel beside me.

It’s the man from the ramen shop. He’s the one who took us to Itomori High School yesterday, and to the city library. I called him really early this morning, and he still did me a favor and brought the car over. If this hadn’t worked, I was planning to hitchhike, but I can’t imagine any cars would’ve given me a ride to a ruined, abandoned town. I’m seriously lucky I met this guy in Hida.

From the passenger-side window, I have a view down to the edge of New Itomori Lake. Half-demolished houses and broken asphalt languish in the water. Even a good ways offshore, I can see telephone poles and iron beams jutting out of the lake. It should be a very disconcerting sight, but I must have gotten used to seeing it on TV and in photos, because I start feeling as if the place has always been like this. For that reason, I don’t really know how to process what I’m seeing. Should I get mad, grieve, get scared, or lament my own helplessness? The reality of losing an entire town is probably too much for ordinary people to get their heads around. I give up searching for meaning in the scene and turn my eyes to the sky. Gray clouds hang over our heads, as if the gods have set an enormous lid there.

We travel north along the lake, and when the car can’t go any higher, the man sets the parking brake.

“Looks like rain,” he mutters, glancing up through the windshield. “This mountain ain’t real steep, but don’t push your luck. If anythin’ happens, you call us.”

“Yessir.”

“Also, here—” He holds out a big lunch box to me. “Eat this up top.”

Automatically, I accept it with both hands. It’s heavy.

“Th-thank you very much…”

…For everything. Seriously. Why would you do so much for me? Oh yeah, and the ramen was super good. I can’t make any of the words come out the way I want them to—all I manage is a tiny “Thanks. Really.” The guy smiles slightly, takes out a cigarette, and lights up.

“I dunno what’s goin’ on with you,” he says, exhaling smoke. “But that picture of Itomori you made. That was good.”

There’s a lump in my throat. Distant thunder rumbles softly.

I’m walking up a path to the shrine that’s as vague as a deer track.

Sometimes I stop to check the destination I’ve marked on the map against the GPS on my phone. It’s all right—I’m getting closer.

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