Rintaro froze.
“Did you hear me, Mr. Proprietor?”
“I don’t understand . . .”
“What’s not to understand? Sayo has been kidnapped. Our last quest goes beyond saving books.”
The cat looked sharply at Rintaro.
“We’re on a mission to rescue your friend.”
Rintaro shifted his eyes toward the passageway that led out of the back of the shop. A long, straight aisle, packed with books, illuminated by that eerie blue glow.
“Why?”
From within Rintaro emerged a sickening dread.
*
“You’re not coming to school after all, are you?”
Two days previously, early in the morning, Sayo had said those words to him. She’d popped in as usual on her way to band practice. She was irritated to find Rintaro once again skipping school, sitting at the cash desk with his cup of morning tea.
They’d chatted awhile, but Rintaro couldn’t remember what about. Just chitchat, probably. About books, about tea, and a little about the cat. Afterward, just as she was leaving for her practice, she’d turned around.
“You can’t stay shut away here forever. I know there’s plenty of stuff that’s not worth the effort, but this is your life—”
Sayo broke off and then continued in a softer voice.
“You need to hold your head high and step out on your own.”
It was the typical advice of a class rep, but he also knew it was Sayo’s way of comforting him about the move.
Rintaro had appreciated her encouragement.
He narrowed his eyes. Burned into his retina was the sight of her hand waving goodbye to him that very morning.
“It’s strange,” he said, as he followed the cat down the long aisle of books. “I’ve never been so worried about another person in my life.”
The cat threw him a glance but didn’t say anything.
The corridor seemed longer than the last time. It was hard to tell whether it was just Rintaro’s imagination or something else entirely.
“Why did they take Sayo? If they wanted me, why didn’t they just take me in the first place?”
“No idea,” replied the cat, bitterly. “You’ll have to ask them yourself. I guess they thought the key to getting through to you was the girl.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? That girl cares about you,” the cat said, staring straight ahead. “She’s always worrying about her gloomy classmate . . .”
“That’s because Sayo’s responsible. She has to be, she’s the class rep. And she’s a good neighbor—”
“I don’t know if this will be of any help to you,” the cat interrupted, “but I can tell you one thing. When that girl first came to the bookshop, I told you that only certain people were able to see me, and under special conditions. I wasn’t talking about supernatural powers or anything like that.”
This time the cat stopped and turned to face Rintaro.
“All it takes is compassion.”
“Compassion?” Rintaro said, dumbfounded.
“Being able to express shallow words of sympathy in a sweet voice doesn’t make someone a caring, compassionate soul. What’s important is the ability to have empathy for another human being—to be able to feel their pain, to walk alongside them in their suffering.”