-nana Natsume-- -

She didn’t wake up the next morning. The villagers said she died of a weak heart. Ren, holding the uneven wooden cat, knew the truth. Nana Natsume didn’t have a weak heart. She had a full one. So full of war, of loss, of gardens grown from rust, and of a boy who needed to know how to sit in the dark.

“Item two,” she whispered. “Take the wooden cat.”

She closed her eyes. “Nothing is mine . Everything is just passing through . I am passing through. The cat is passing through. The only thing that stays is what you do with it.” -Nana Natsume--

“Are you scared?” she asked.

She pressed the cat into his palm. “Your name is not on it yet. But it will be. Someday, you’ll carve it for someone else.” She didn’t wake up the next morning

He told her a terrible joke about a ghost who was afraid of the dark. She snorted. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“I’m not taking it, Nana. It’s yours.” Nana Natsume didn’t have a weak heart

She handed him the other half. “We will use the blank insides for lists.”

“Nana!” Ren gasped.