CHAPTER 1 DREAM

Copyright

your name.

Makoto Shinkai

Translation by Taylor Engel

Cover art by Makoto Shinkai

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

©Makoto Shinkai © 2016 TOHO CO. / CoMix Wave Films Inc. / KADOKAWA CORPORATION / East Japan Marketing & Communications, Inc. / AMUSE INC. / voque ting co., ltd. / Lawson HMV Entertainment, Inc.

English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC

Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright.

The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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First Yen On Edition: May 2017

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Shinkai, Makoto, author, artist. | Engel, Taylor, translator.

Title: Your name / Makoto Shinkai ; translation by Taylor Engel ; cover art by Makoto Shinkai.

Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2017.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017003537 | ISBN 9780316471862 (hardback)

Subjects: | CYAC: Dreams—Fiction. | Sex role—Fiction. | Fate and fatalism—Fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S5176 Yo 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017003537

ISBNs: 978-0-316-47186-2 (hardcover)

978-0-316-47309-5 (ebook)

E3-20170429-JV-PC

 Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One: Dream

Chapter Two: The Beginning

Chapter Three: Days

Chapter Four: The Search

Chapter Five: Memories

Chapter Six: Reenactment

Chapter Seven: Struggle, Magnificently

Chapter Eight: Your Name.

Afterword

Essay by Genki Kawamura

Yen Newsletter

Chapter ONE

DREAM

A nostalgic voice and scent. Cherished light and warmth.

I’m pressed against someone very special to me, so close that there’s no space between us. We’re bound to one another, almost inseparable. Like an infant cradled at its mother’s ******, I’m wholly untouched by anxiety or loneliness. I’ve never encountered the sting of loss. A tingling, exquisitely sweet feeling fills me.

Abruptly, my eyes open.

There’s the ceiling.

I’m in my room. It’s morning.

I’m alone.

Tokyo.

…I see.

I’ve been dreaming. I sit up in bed.

In that two-second span, the sense of unity that enveloped me a moment earlier vanishes without a trace, without an echo. It’s so sudden that, before I have time to so much as form a thought, the tears come.

Every so often when I wake up in the morning, for some reason, I’m crying.

…And I can never remember what I was dreaming about.

I wipe the tears away with my right hand, then stare at it. Little drops of water dot my index finger. Both the dream and the tears that briefly filled my eyes have already evaporated.

This hand once held something really precious…

I don’t know.

I give up, get out of bed, leave my room, and head for the bathroom. Washing my face, I get the feeling that the taste and lukewarm temperature of this water once startled me, and I look into the mirror.

My reflection stares back. He seems vaguely unhappy.

Gazing into the mirror, I do my hair, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my spring suit.

I tie the necktie I’ve finally gotten used to, then put on my jacket.

I open the door of my apartment…

I shut the door to my condo. In front of me…

Tokyo’s cityscape, which I’ve finally gotten accustomed to, spreads out before me. Just as I once learned the names of the mountain peaks, I can name a few of the skyscrapers now without even trying.

I get through the turnstile at the crowded station, take the escalator down…

I board a commuter train. Leaning against the door, I watch the scenery flow by. The city teems with people—in the windows of buildings, in cars, on pedestrian bridges.

A hazy, pale spring sky. A hundred people to a car, a thousand people to a train, a thousand trains crisscrossing the city.

Before I know it, just like always, as I gaze out over those streets…

I’m…

…looking for someone. Just one person.

I’m…

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