The confusion about what exists as fantasy and what exists in reality is especially well done in “Hanshin,” where the conjoined twins—simultaneously a single being and two distinct people, one ugly, one beautiful—are mirrors of one another, interchangeable reflections. This relationship offers the possibility of transcendence, but only for one sister, and Hagio leaves the ending unresolved in the same way the ending to “Iguana Girl” is unsettled: How much of the character’s conflict exists only in her mind? And does that make it any less “real”? The notion that there might not be one, objective reality is echoed in the fiction of Philip K. Dick, who had published most of his novels the decade before Hagio began writing the earliest tales in this collection (they span from 1977 to 2007). I’m not certain, however, whether Dick’s work would have been translated into Japanese by then, so it seems unlikely she was influenced by him. Still, the theme of powerfully shifting perceptions is significant in the narratives of both writers.

Mirrors also appear in “Bianca,” as an entrance to another world, which is a visual theme in Cocteau’s films (yet another artist whose work Hagio was attuned to early on), particularly as a doorway between worlds, life and death. He also engages with the Orpheus myth, which I think is partly what “Bianca” is investigating. Though the forest seems to claim her in death, implying a sinister aspect, Hagio never makes it clear which world is more humane—the forest that “kills” but in which she can behave as a free being, or the real world, where she is betrayed by her own family.