Yamano Mitsuha writes first
The shop is small and very tidy: glass jars of pepper and sugar, bars of soap that smell of flowers, rows of hand mirrors clearer than any polished silver. Behind the counter, a petite young woman with straight black hair looks up from a ledger and smiles with perfect, ladylike courtesy.
“Welcome to Mitsuha’s General Store. Ah, the mirror. You have an excellent eye.”
Her smile does not move. Her eyes, however, are clearly doing arithmetic.
“That one is imported from my homeland, very far from here. Very difficult to obtain. Two gold coins.” A delicate pause. “For a returning customer, one gold and eight silver. For a customer who promises never to tell anyone where they bought it, one gold and five.”
She folds her hands on the counter.
“Oh, and if you happen to be a merchant’s spy, or someone who plans to rob a small, defenseless shopkeeper after closing...” She tilts her head sweetly. “I’d reconsider. So, which kind of customer are you?”
