The Cat Who Saved Books(5)

The jade eyes stared straight into Rintaro’s.

“Yes . . . Yes, of course I like books.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Everything about the tabby cat was bold and confident—so different from Rintaro himself. The boy began to fiddle with his glasses frame again, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. But there was no explanation that made any sense.

“The important stuff is always difficult to understand, Mr. Proprietor,” said the cat, as if reading Rintaro’s thoughts. “Most people don’t get that obvious truth. They just go about their everyday lives, and yet ‘it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’”

“Well!” Rintaro’s eyes widened. “I never expected to hear a cat quoting The Little Prince.”

“Not into Saint-Exupéry?”

“He’s one of my favorite authors,” Rintaro replied, pointing to a nearby shelf, “but I think I like Night Flight best. And I couldn’t put Southern Mail down.”

“Splendid,” said the tabby with a grin.

The cat’s composure brought a strong wave of nostalgia over the boy. Somehow it reminded him of his grandfather, except Grandpa had never been this talkative.

“So you’ll help me?”

Rintaro shrugged.

“Am I allowed to refuse?”

“You are,” replied the cat right away, and then added crankily, “but I will be bitterly disappointed if you do.”

Rintaro grimaced slightly.

So this cat turns up out of nowhere, asking for help, then says it’s going to be bitterly disappointed if I don’t agree . . .

It just wasn’t reasonable, yet there was something appealing about the cat’s plainspoken style—he couldn’t get too mad at it. On reflection, this cat probably was a lot like his grandpa after all.

“So what do you need me to do?”

“Follow me.”

“Where to?”

“Come on!”

The cat turned around and headed not in the direction of the front door, but toward the shadows at the far end of the store. Rather confused, Rintaro followed, but he’d barely taken more than a few steps before a very curious feeling of vertigo came over him. Natsuki Books was long and narrow; he had expected to run into the wall at the back in another few steps. But today, there was no dead end. The aisle lined with its towering walls of bookcases just kept going. The old-fashioned lamps overhead also seemed to repeat infinitely. As they walked, Rintaro noticed that the shelves were filled with books he’d never seen before. Many of them were different from the usual bound books of today. They’d left behind old secondhand paperbacks and moved on to beautiful leather-bound tomes, embossed with gold; the passageway had become a gallery of gorgeous books.

“Th . . . This . . . I, er . . .”

Rintaro began to ramble incoherently. The cat looked over its shoulder at him.

“Are you frightened, Mr. Proprietor? If you’re going to bail on me, then now’s your chance.”

“I was just wondering when the store got all these new books,” Rintaro replied, peering into the distance, then looking down at the cat. “With all these new titles to read, I don’t think I’m ready to leave the hikikomori life just yet. Maybe I’ll ask my aunt if we can delay the move.”

“Hmm. Your sense of humor leaves something to be desired, but your heart is in the right place. This world throws all kinds of obstacles at us; we are forced to endure so much that is absurd. Our best weapon for fighting all the pain and trouble in the world isn’t logic or violence. It’s humor.”

Having dispensed this nugget of wisdom in the style of some ancient philosopher, the tabby cat padded off again down the corridor.

“Let’s go, Mr. Proprietor.”

Rintaro followed obediently.

Soon the bookshelves on each side were stocked with an assortment of thick volumes that were totally unfamiliar to him. As the boy and the cat made their way forward, the passageway became infused with a faint, bluish glow. It gradually brightened, until eventually the whole space was filled with a blinding white light.

*

He saw bright sunlight and trees swaying gently.

The white light faded, and Rintaro found himself surrounded by pleasant scenery. At his feet, flagstones gleamed brightly in the sunshine. Overhead, the branches of a large mimosa silk tree swayed in the breeze, creating glittery showers of sunbeams. And beyond those . . . Rintaro screwed up his eyes to try to make it out.

“A gate?”

A short distance away, at the top of a flight of stone steps, was a magnificent yakuimon roofed gateway. Its roof was made with traditional decorative tiles, and its great wooden doors polished to a fine gloss, but the overall feeling was of something vaguely oppressive. Rintaro looked left and right. In both directions, a perfectly even wall continued as far as the eye could see. Next to the main gate was a smaller door in the wall; the nameplate appeared to be blank.

The regular flagstones, stretching away into the distance, were spotless. Not so much as a fallen leaf marred their surface. The particles of light that filtered through the spaces between the roof and the trees sparkled like dancing water droplets.

There was not a soul in sight.

“We’re here,” said the cat. “This is our destination.”