“All right, Other Natsuki,” she said. “Lead the way to your Mirror Sea. But I’m not going there to return a fish. I’m going there to find out why a dead girl with my name is the only one who can help me.”
Natsuki looked down at her hands. They were still her hands—chapped from cold market water, nails short and practical. But a faint, silvery webbing had begun to grow between her fingers. “That’s disgusting,” she said calmly. hatakeyama natsuki
And Hatakeyama Natsuki—the Ferry’s Keeper, the dead boy with the living name—had no choice but to follow. “All right, Other Natsuki,” she said
For the first time, the boy’s obsidian eyes widened. A crack appeared in his perfect composure—something like surprise, or maybe fear. or maybe fear.