It was Sunday, and Nakano was jammed. Nakano Broadway, rising up like a giant castle, was swarming with people, each on his or her own particular errand.

With so many people around, there might well be others walking around looking for lost parts for capsule figures, as he was. One or two of the searchers might even be capsule figures themselves.

Tomoya shook his head to clear away this pointless daydream and looked around. He quickly spotted the person whose call had brought him there.

"I didn't think you'd come."

Ena looked distressed. Tomoya offered a noncommittal smile. Somehow or another he'd shown up here—that was about all he could say. Ena's e-mail message had arrived the night before, three days after Kanako had stopped moving.

"What did you want to show me?"

"Let's go."

Without answering the question, Ena turned her back on him and started walking. Tomoya followed. They rode the escalator and then walked down a corridor, and their destination came into view. He still had no idea what Ena had in mind.

They arrived at the rental showcase shop. Ena led Tomoya inside and stopped in front of showcase number 56. It was her showcase, the one he'd admired so many times.

Inside was Kanako's arm.

"You can have it."

"How did . . . ?"

He replayed scenes he'd hidden in a deep corner of his memory. Ena had smashed a right arm that night. Kanako, still missing an arm, had grown increasingly weak, until finally . . .

"That was a copy. I made one that looked like Kanako's right arm, just as a spare. This is the real one."

Under the lights Kanako's arm gave off a milky glow.