PREVIEW

... r and over again.

Miyamizu Mitsuha had spent the entire day in silent repetition, twisting, folding, and weaving the cords with practiced precision. It was meditative work—soothing even—but the silence in her heart only grew heavier as the sun dipped below the mountains. When the last thread was tied off, and the final braid set aside, dusk had already fallen across Itomori.

She returned home in near darkness.

Sliding open the door to her room, she immediately reached for ...

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