The wind on the slope was dry.
It swept down from the crest, flattening a patch of grass before the blades rose again.
Several sheets lay spread on a flat stone, their corners weighted with pebbles. The paper had been cut, but the edges were uneven.
A coarse bowl sat upside down beside the stone, a chip in its rim.
The storehouse door stood half open, books stacked on the shelves inside.
Smoke had just begun rising from the stove.
Izumi was crouched beside the stone, gathering paper and pens. She turned at the sound of footsteps.
"You're here."
She straightened and moved aside, leaving the stone clear. A little charcoal dust clung to her fingers.
Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, scraps of paper resting on her arms. She set the pen down first, then finished what she was doing.
Kiyoshi took the Transcription Notebook from inside his clothes. Its cover was worn fuzzy, its paper edges curled.
The binding thread had loosened, one end sticking out.
Inside were those pages about the Land of Waves-the bridge, the sea, the mist, all recorded there.
The edges of those pages had curled inward. They had been turned more than once.
"This one's full."
She took the notebook, looked at the cover first, then slowly leafed through the pages.
Halfway through, her fingertips stopped.
A faint circle marked that line of writing, drawn very lightly with a charcoal stick.
Without a close look, it could have passed for a smudge on the paper. He recognized the line.
It matched the one on the sheet inside his clothes, word for word. She did not look up.
On the pages beside it, half a line still waited to be copied.
The wind lifted a corner of the paper beside the stone. She