*
Sayo opened her eyes, and for a while, she didn’t move a muscle. She checked out her surroundings, trying to make sense of where she was.
She’d been asleep in the corner of Natsuki Books. Apparently, she’d sat down on a wooden stool, leaned her head against a bookshelf, and fallen asleep. The blanket that had been placed over her and the little paraffin heater by her side showed that someone had taken care of her. There was a white kettle on top of the heater from which steam was gently rising.
She looked toward the front door of the shop, where morning sun was shining in. Standing with his back to the light, deep in thought, his hand fiddling with the frame of his glasses, was her classmate. There was something solemn about the way he was staring at the bookcases, as if burning every cover, every title onto his retinas, and engraving each of the stories within into his heart.
“You really do love books, don’t you?”
At Sayo’s words, Rintaro turned as if only just realizing she was there. He sighed with relief.
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry you were never going to wake up. You were out cold.”
“I’m exhausted from all these morning practice sessions. But I have to tell you, I’m not in the habit of falling asleep at other people’s houses.”
Sayo’s voice was livelier than ever, probably to cover up the fact that she was blushing. She continued hastily.
“Thanks, Natsuki. Looks like I was a bit of a pain.”
“A pain?”
“You had to carry me back, right? From that strange place . . .”
Rintaro looked away for a moment, then shook his head rather deliberately.
“You must have had some weird dream.”
“Hey!” Sayo’s expression turned fierce. “Don’t even think of pretending it was all a dream. That’s not going to work, because I remember the whole thing. The talking cat, the passageway through the bookshelves, that crazy research facility. Shall I go on?”
“No, that’s enough,” said Rintaro, waving both hands to cut her off. “It’s fine. I got it.”
“Okay then.” Sayo laughed.
In the back of her mind that mysterious scene kept resurfacing. Those people in the white coats rushing around, that endless staircase down into the ground, the booming sound of the Ninth Symphony, and the bizarre conversation. But then somewhere in the middle of that conversation, it all became fuzzy. As if she were sinking down into a deep, dark ocean. But she recalled how somewhere in the midst of it her classmate’s warm hand had taken hers and pulled her back. How could that strong, reliable grip have belonged to this quiet, unassuming boy?
“What happened to the kitty-cat?”
Rintaro shook his head.
“I didn’t see it on the way back. Just like the last time—it disappeared without saying goodbye.”
“So does that mean it’s possible we might meet it again?”
“You look pleased about it,” Rintaro said, looking a little perplexed. “I was hoping not to get you mixed up in any more of these crazy happenings.”
“I’m already plenty mixed up in it,” Sayo quipped.
She got to her feet and stretched. Outside the door the light was fresh and vivid. According to the clock on the wall, hardly any time had passed since she had walked into the shop that morning. She’d apparently only just arrived. Everything seemed so normal that it was easy to believe it had been no more than a dream. Squinting a little in the bright sunlight, Sayo changed the subject.
“How’s the moving prep going, Natsuki?”