The Cat Who Saved Books(35)

*

“Thanks.”

The tabby cat, padding noiselessly through the rows of books, looked back over its shoulder at Rintaro and Sayo.

“Looks like you did good.”

“I don’t know about that, but the president did smile as he sent us on our way,” Rintaro said.

“That’s good enough.” The cat nodded.

The bluish light, countless books filling the space on both sides, and the lamps hanging overhead. This bizarre scene had become a familiar one to them. They were on their way home, led through the strange corridor of books by the tabby cat.

After the brief words of thanks, the cat continued in silence. The very fact that it wasn’t talking spoke volumes.

“So you said this last labyrinth would be the end . . .” ventured Rintaro.

“That’s right,” said the cat as it came to a halt. They were back in Natsuki Books. Almost as if the whole long trip had been an illusion, the way back had been simple and short.

After walking them to the heart of the shop, the cat turned nimbly around and headed back up the aisle.

It hadn’t bothered to say goodbye.

“Are you going?” Rintaro spoke up.

“Yes, I’m afraid I have to.”

The cat turned and bowed deeply.

“Thanks to you, many, many books have been freed. I’m truly grateful.”

The cat remained in that humble pose, its head lowered, backlit by the bluish-white glow. It was a strange sight, but the emotion the cat expressed was sincere.

“You have vanquished the inhabitants of three labyrinths with your own power. My work here is done.”

Sayo jumped in.

“What do you mean, ‘done’? Won’t we see you again?”

“No, we can’t meet. There’s no longer a need.”

“But . . .” Sayo began, turning to Rintaro in bewilderment.

Rintaro let out a deep sigh.

“If this really is goodbye, then there’s something I want to say first,” he said.

“Go ahead,” replied the cat. “Say whatever you want. A complaint, a parting shot at me—whatever.”

“I just want to say thank you. That’s all.”

Rintaro bowed.

Both Sayo and the tabby cat seemed surprised.

“Hold on, was that sarcasm?”

“Of course not,” said Rintaro, a wry grin on his face. “I’m not as dumb as you think, you know.”

“Not as dumb as I think . . . ?” said the cat, looking at Rintaro suspiciously.

“You came to me saying you needed to free some books and that you needed my help. But I think your goal was really something else.”

The cat didn’t stir, just fixed Rintaro with its jade eyes.

“The day I lost my grandfather I couldn’t care less what happened to me. My mom and dad were gone, and now I’d lost Grandpa, too. It was all so unfair and I was just so sick and tired of everything, and then suddenly you turned up.”

He scratched his head a little shyly.

“If you hadn’t, I definitely wouldn’t be standing here with a smile on my face. I was supposed to help you, but you’re the one who helped me.”

Rintaro looked at the cat and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I shut myself away in the shop, but you forced me out of it. Thank you.”

“Shutting yourself away in a bookshop is fine,” said the cat in its rich, deep voice. “What worried us more was that you’d retreated into your own shell.”

“My shell . . .”

“Please do come out of it.”

The cat spoke quietly, but its voice resonated to the pit of Rintaro’s stomach.

“Don’t give in to loneliness. You aren’t alone. You have many friends looking out for you.”

Its parting words were heartfelt, encouraging. Rintaro fought off the questions that came to his head and simply looked back in silence.

Only a few days had gone by since his grandfather had passed away, and yet thanks to this strange cat, somehow he had been able to find some light in the darkness of his misery. That had been the cat’s true gift.

“Thank you,” Rintaro repeated.

“Good manners,” said the cat with a chuckle.

The cat flashed him one last smile, bowed gracefully, then slipped away down the bookshop aisle. As it was enveloped in the light, it began to scamper away at full speed. Sayo and Rintaro watched it disappear without glancing back.

The figure of the cat dissolved into the soft blue light and was replaced by the old wooden back wall of the bookshop.

Although there wasn’t a single customer in sight, the doorbell rang once, bright and clear.





The Final Labyrinth

Rintaro tipped the white teapot and immediately the aroma of Assam tea rose from the well-used Wedgwood teacup. He added a single sugar cube and plenty of milk, then took a silver spoon and gently stirred, watching the splash of milk gently circle the cup and become absorbed into the tea. He nodded with satisfaction.

“I’ve gotten really good at this.”

Brewing tea, that is.

It had been his grandfather’s habit to make himself a cup of tea after cleaning the bookshop every morning. Rintaro had followed the same routine for the past week and was beginning to feel very comfortable in it.