The Cat Who Saved Books(48)

“You’re really on top of it.”

Just as he was about done with the cleaning, he heard Sayo’s cheerful voice, and she walked in carrying her black instrument case. Rintaro had recently learned that she played the bass clarinet. He’d never heard of the instrument but reliable sources told him that Sayo was the only one in the band who could play it.

“You do this day in, day out.”

She sat down on a stool in the middle of the shop.

“Is it really necessary to clean the shop every day?”

Rintaro laughed as he took the books off the shelf and dusted them one by one.

“It’s fine. You and I are different people. I don’t have any club activities to go to in the mornings. New books catch my interest every time I clean, so it’s a lot of fun.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

Sayo was being as blunt as ever, which Rintaro always found refreshing.

“But this book really is terrible, don’t you think?”

As she spoke, Sayo produced a thick hardback book from her shoulder bag.

“I just don’t get it at all.”

Rintaro grimaced. It was Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. He’d started off recommending Jane Austen, moved on to Stendhal, Gide, Flaubert—all love stories, thinking they’d be enjoyable reads for her—but just last week Sayo had announced she was ready to try other genres. Rintaro had suggested García Márquez.

“Did you really read this whole thing?” she asked him.

“Of course. It was a while back, though.”

“Yeah, you’re weird. I can’t understand a word of it. It’s too difficult.”

“That’s good.”

Rintaro chuckled as he knocked the dust off the nearest bookshelf. Sayo stared at him with a puzzled look on her face.

“Why’s it good?”

“If you find it difficult, it’s because it contains something that is new to you. Every difficult book offers us a brand-new challenge.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sayo didn’t look convinced.

“If you find a book easy to read, that means it’s all stuff that you already know,” he went on. “That’s why it’s easy. If you find it difficult, then that’s proof it’s something brand new.”

As Rintaro laughed, Sayo observed him as if he were some kind of exotic animal.

“You really are a weirdo, aren’t you?”

“That’s a bit mean.”

“But it’s not a bad thing.”

Sayo rested her forehead in her hand and stared at Rintaro.

“Actually, it’s pretty cool,” she said.

Rintaro’s hand suddenly stopped moving. He glanced in Sayo’s direction and saw her grinning at him.

“Your ears have gone all red,” she said.

“I’m an innocent. Unlike some.”

“What do you mean, ‘innocent’? You’re always reading novels like Lolita and Madame Bovary. I think you’re really a secret pervert.”

“If you’re gonna be like that I’m not selling you any more books.”

“I’m just kidding,” said Sayo cheerfully, getting to her feet. However, she didn’t make for the front door, wandering instead over to the back of the shop.

“It really does just stop here, doesn’t it?”

“If it didn’t, we’d really have a problem.”

“It would be a problem, but it’s still kind of a pity. It just feels like it was all a dream now.”

Sometimes Rintaro thought it must have been a dream. But even if it had been, there was one thing that was perfectly clear to him now. He was not alone.

*

“I’ve decided I’d like to stay at the bookshop.”

It was Christmas Eve, one hour before the moving van was about to arrive when Rintaro had finally said those words. He’d thought it was a really outrageous thing to say, but his aunt hadn’t been particularly surprised. She’d simply folded her arms and returned her nephew’s gaze. The awkward silence that followed felt long, but it quite possibly lasted only a few moments.

“Something happened, didn’t it, Rin-chan?” she said quite calmly.

The question came as a surprise to Rintaro. The aunt smiled at the boy’s confusion.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t suppose you’re about to explain the whole thing to a middle-aged aunt you barely know.”

Of course, Rintaro couldn’t tell her about his bizarre adventures with a talking cat. More than that he hadn’t really come to terms at that point with how the experience had changed him. But whatever it was, he had decided it was time to strike out on his own. There was no such thing as having no choice. Rintaro knew that now. There were many roads to choose from. What was important was not to let yourself roll along aimlessly, but to pick a road.

How can I move on if I don’t believe in myself? Deep in that labyrinth, Rintaro had asked himself that question. His words turned into strength and he felt able to keep going alone.

His aunt saw that he was not about to speak, so she had continued.

“Living on your own isn’t going to be too much for you?”

“Too much?”