The train began to move.

As Yoinamihama receded into the distance, a manuscript lay across Koyoi’s lap. On three of its pages, new names had been recorded, layered over the old—three spirits rescued from the waters of the shore.

The surface of the paper was starting to dry. Golden characters overlapped with the ink, tracing a shimmering, double-lined silhouette. But the fourth page remained white.

The ink of the name Koyoi had written had not faded, yet the golden letters that should have rested atop them were nowhere to be found. The fourth spirit could not be saved. When he had dipped the manuscript into the liquid, it had drawn in nothing but clear water.

There was no golden light.

The name had been completely diluted. It had returned to the water. A liquid dripped from Koyoi’s hand—it was just water now.

No warmth.

No sensation.

What had once been a name had become nothing at all. Asahi sat down beside Koyoi in silence. Kuon recorded the count in the register.

“Thirteen from Hoshino. Three from Hoshifurimachi. Three from Yoinamihama. That makes nineteen in total. Thirty-one remain.”

One was already gone.

Koyoi folded the fourth page. He took the paper, bearing only a name in ink, folded it with care, and tucked it into the side of his pouch. The pouch pulsed against him.

His voice still wouldn't come.

Perhaps because they were still so close to the Liquid Realm, his sense of sound hadn't fully returned even though they had left the beach. But the pulsation reached him clearly. It was warm. As if responding to his grief, the Droplet sent its warmth to him.

Outside the window, the golden liquid was fading back to silver. Yoinamihama was falling away.

Koyoi closed his eyes. He remembered the fourth name.

Two simple hiragana characters. A name that would never be called by anyone again. He spoke it once, silently, in the depths of his heart.

He did not give it voice.

He didn't want to place any more of a burden on a name that had already dissolved back into the water.

The train jolted. Outside the window, a single white bird flew as if in pursuit. Eventually, the bird outpaced the train and vanished into the mist.

Koyoi pulled the manuscript close to his chest. Through the paper, he could feel the warmth of the three spirits he had saved.