Koyoi pressed a single manuscript page against the windowpane. The glass clouded over. It wasn't from the moisture of the paper.
A thin film of "liquid records" had coated the outside of the window. The moment the manuscript touched that film, the characters on the page began to glow with a faint light. The words were calling out. Reaching toward the names on the other side of the glass.
"Stop. The names are being pulled."
Kuon wrenched the manuscript away from the window. A few silver droplets remained clinging to the surface of the paper.
Koyoi touched one with his fingertip. It was cold.
It was a different kind of cold from the Droplet inside his pouch. The Droplet was a living warmth, but this water was—
"Is this... a fragment of a name?"
"Yes. A portion of a dissolved name permeated the glass and adhered to the manuscript. But a fragment alone is meaningless. Without the main body, it can't be restored."
Kuon observed the droplets through his prosthetic eye. An azure glow scanned through the liquid.
"It’s not just the Four Pillars. Thousands of names are dissolved in this fluid."
Koyoi stared out the window. A silver current flowed majestically beneath the train. Within it, he could see innumerable streaks of gold.
Thousands.
Thousands of names had been discarded here.
The pouch at his side pulsed. A small, trembling beat. The Droplet was afraid of this place. Perhaps the sorrow of the names washed away here was reaching it through the fabric.
Koyoi gripped the pouch.
He sent his own warmth into it.
"Don't be afraid."
He spoke the words aloud.
They were meant for the Droplet, but he was also saying them to convince himself.
One of the silver droplets left on the manuscript took on a faint, golden hue.
The wind died down.
In the moment the air inside the carriage fell still, the waves outside changed. The silver flow, which had been swaying irregularly until then, suddenly began to pulse at a fixed interval.
Koyoi leaned his face closer to the window.
The crests of the waves glowed gold. When they sank, they returned to silver. Light, sink, light, sink. A pause of three beats, then it lit up once more.
Three—one. Three—one.
"Kuon. Those waves... there’s a pattern."
"I see it."
Kuon directed his prosthetic eye toward the window. The azure light swept across the surface of the waves.
"This isn't random reflection. It's a signal. The names submerged in the waves are surfacing at set intervals. Not by their own power—they’re being pushed up from the bottom of the sea."
Asahi stepped toward the window.
"Who’s pushing them?"
"The sea. The sea itself is sorting the names. Sinking what should be sunk, and bringing what should be floated to the surface along with the signal. This wave pattern is the sign that the names are prepared."
Kuon opened his catalog and began transcribing the rhythm of the waves.
Three—one. Three—one. Two—one.
The pattern changed.
"The rhythm is quickening. We're getting closer—to the place where the names are."
Koyoi pulled the pouch close to his chest. The Droplet’s pulse was beginning to synchronize with the rhythm of the waves. Even the droplets on the manuscript were flickering gold in the same interval. Three separate pulses were converging into a single beat.
The next time the waves flashed, the gold briefly took the shape of a human figure. It was reaching out an arm. Reaching from within the water, toward them.
The names were preparing to return home.
The waves repeated the signal, over and over again.