The Cat Who Saved Books(49)

“I mean, is it because you hate the thought of living with a distant relative? You’re not just making this up on the spot to get out of it?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he replied, briefly and with complete confidence.

His aunt stayed there for a while, her arms still crossed. Finally, she gave a decisive nod.

“Okay then. If you accept my three conditions, then I might agree.”

“What conditions?”

“Number one is that you attend school.”

Uh-oh, Rintaro thought. So she knew that he hadn’t been going . . .

“The second condition is that you call me three times a week. Just to let me know you’re okay. And then the third condition . . .”

She unfolded her arms, put her hands on her generous hips, and leaned in toward him.

“If you have any trouble, don’t try to solve everything by yourself, ask me for help. It’s not easy for a high school student to live by himself.”

Rintaro was caught off guard. His aunt was kind; everything she did was out of consideration for her nephew. If she had been in the bookshop back then, he just knew she would have been able to see the cat and the mysterious passageway.

“Calling you three times a week might be a bit tricky.”

“Hmm, I wonder which is trickier—that or calling a moving company to cancel a contract one hour before they’re due to arrive? Would you care to swap places?”

His aunt was clever, too.

“Thank you,” said Rintaro, bowing his head. He heard his aunt murmur to herself: “Look at you, Rintaro. You’ve turned out just like your grandfather.”

There was no better compliment.

*

“Every difficult book offers us a brand-new challenge, huh?” said Sayo, staring at her copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

“By the way, García Márquez happens to be one of Akiba’s favorite authors,” said Rintaro. “I bet he’s read all these titles.”

“Whatever—don’t tell me that. Now I feel even less like reading them.”

She glared at Rintaro as she put the heavy book back in her bag.

“But if it doesn’t pick up, I’m going to hold you responsible.”

“Gabriel García Márquez wrote it, not me.”

“But you’re the one who recommended it, not Gabriel García Márquez.”

His aunt, Sayo—Rintaro marveled at the fact that he was surrounded by such intelligent women.

“Oh no!”

Sayo leapt to her feet. She’d just realized that band practice was about to start. She grabbed her bass clarinet from the table and hurried to the door.

“Natsuki, make sure you come to school today.”

“I’m going. I promised my aunt I would.”

He walked her to the door and saw that the sky was beautiful and clear. A yellow delivery bicycle went past, bright against the blue of the sky.

Sayo bounded down the steps in front of the shop, but then turned as if she’d forgotten something.

“Hey, do you want to go out for dinner sometime?” she said offhandedly.

Rintaro was completely flustered. He blinked twice as if unable to believe his ears.

“You want to have dinner with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because if I waited for you to ask me it would never happen.”

Rintaro got even more flustered. Sayo sighed and shrugged.

“It’s all well and good to chat inside the bookshop, but occasionally you need to get a bit of sun or you’ll be ill. Do you really want your grandfather in heaven to get worried sick over you?”

“If I go out to dinner with a girl, Grandpa’s really going to worry.”

(That’s what he would have liked to say, had his mind not gone completely blank.) “If you’re okay with it,” Rintaro said. It was all he could get out.

“I’ll make do,” Sayo said. It was a crisp response; there was nothing more to say.

She flashed him the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen and set off down the road. As he listened to her footsteps, Rintaro’s mouth fell open.

“Sayo!” he managed to shout.

His classmate turned around.

“Thank you.”

His shy voice came out louder than he’d expected.

Sayo seemed surprised. He wasn’t normally so direct, but his words were powered by a great depth of feeling.

In fact, he had many feelings for this friend who had dropped in to care for him so many times. He had been struggling with how to express all these to her, but “thank you” seemed to suffice.

Sayo was still standing there, and he raised his voice once again.

“I’m really grateful. So much has been thanks to you.”

“What’s up with you all of a sudden? Yuck.”

“Hey, Yuzuki, looks like you’re blushing now.”

“I’m not!”

She turned and ran down the road. The bright sunshine fell on Rintaro’s back and he felt his uniform warm against his skin. As he stood there seeing Sayo off, he suddenly heard a deep voice in his ear.

“Good luck, Mr. Proprietor.”