Prologue: Kenichi Saves the Cat

Marumi stepped into the alley behind the Gyokuto Cafe & Mochi. She hated weekends. The red door stood under a flickering fluorescent light. She slid her key into the lock and turned it, the old lock clicking with a somewhat satisfying thunk as it unlocked.

Something moved in the garbage can beside the door, sending the lid clattering to the ground. She stopped, stifled a scream, then, after a few slow, deep breaths, looked into the dim pre-dawn air to see what had caused the ruckus.

It was a small, black cat. It sat at the top of the black plastic bag and looked up at her. In the flickering yellow light of the doorway lamp, it almost looked like it had purple eyes. Curious.

The cat watched her as she opened the door and stepped inside. Her hand crept along the wall, looking for the lightswitch. It was always just a little further than she expected, but once she found it, she flicked the entire row on, sending the old lights flickering on in the back kitchen. They powered up one after another, except for the one in the corner that obviously needed to be replaced. She made a mental note to make a physical note to tell Mr. Hanzo to replace it.

It wasn't that she hated everything about the weekends. She liked opening Gyokuto Cafe & Mochi. She liked the smell of coffee and sweets and pastries, the gentle hum of conversation as the regulars filtered in for drinks, enjoying hot, rich beverages while they read books, magazines, newspapers, or whatever it was on their phones. She liked watching the old ladies playing mahjong in the corner, arguing over the rules. She particularly enjoyed her afternoon break, where she would sit at one of the tables, enjoy a green tea ramen and read whatever book she had last gotten from the bookmobile that just so happened to stop there every Saturday, just as her shift ended. She'd trade in the old book and select a new one. Each time was an adventure, like she got to travel to a new and exciting world each week.

Her book this week was The Eternal Blade of Tenrai by T. S. Amagami. It was one of those foundational fantasy novels that everybody was expected to read if they wanted to claim to be fans of fantasy. Marumi had enjoyed it so far, appreciating its depth and world building and how, even though it was the basis for many modern fantasy tropes, it didn't use those tropes in an annoying way like so many modern fantasy novels did.

She placed some pastries in the oven, wanting them to be ready by the time she opened the shop. The smell of baked goods and fresh coffee made her forget briefly the annoyances of the weekend.

Fifteen minutes before opening, the first one came by. Gillian. “Good morning, Marumi!” she said, cheerful as ever, as if she was high-energy and full of life every single moment she was awake.

“Morning,” Marumi mumbled, checking over the Italian espresso machine one last time.

“Do you think Kenichi will come by today?” Gillian asked.

Marumi grimaced. The only thing more annoying than Gillian's eternal sunny disposition was Kenichi. Everybody loved him, he was good at everything. The other boys wanted to be him, the girls wanted to be with him, and he was oblivious to the fact that everybody loved him.

Everybody except Marumi. She saw right through that facade. She knew deep down that he knew that everybody loved him, and was just exploiting it.

“I hope he brings his guitar,” Gillian said.

Marumi pretended like the espresso machine required her full concentration.

When it was time to open, Gillian unlocked the front door. Marumi had never seen her drink coffee, but wow, did she make a good cup. It didn't matter if it was a cafe americano, or some candy-coated drink with just a drop of coffee and a complimentary shot of insulin, Gillian was about as bright as the bulb Marumi needed to remind Mr. Hanzo to replace, but she made up for it by being a genius barista.

The usuals filtered in. Marumi and Gillian took and made their orders. Things were going smoothly. And then Kenichi arrived.

Kenichi Chozen, with his big, dumb smile, his guitar he had named Drowsysword slung across his back. Marumi hated everything about him.

He tapped on the window and waved. Gillian waved back. Marumi scowled at the fingerprints he had left on the glass.

He didn't come in. He never did, not at first. The weekend was his time for busking. He set his guitar case on the ground, pulled out Drowsysword, and then started playing and singing to the morning passersby.

“Do you think we can convince him to play here on a Friday night?” Gillian asked from behind Marumi.

Marumi scowled again. It wasn't as if she played her own guitar, which didn't have a stupid name, every Friday night for the evening crowd at Gyokuto. It wasn't as if Kenichi, just because he had a big stupid grin on his face, could play guitar like a pro and sing like an angel, deserved to take the thing she liked the best in all the world. It wasn't as if Mr. Hanzo would agree to it, at least she hoped.

Kenichi played his guitar like a pro and sang like an angel. People tossed coins, and some even tossed bills, into his guitar case.

After about an hour of this, Marumi saw him pack it in. Like clockwork, he put together all of his earnings, then went on over to the blind homeless man sitting down the block. He dumped all the bills and coins into the mug the blind homeless man held, and without a word, came into the cafe.

By this time, Marumi was taking her break. She sat at a table by herself, eating a green tea ramen, and trying to finish her book. She was lost in the world of Tenrai, so she didn't see him sit down across from her.

“Good book, huh?” he said.

She looked up over the page. Kenichi sat across from her, Drowsysword leaning against the table. He had a drink that looked like a rainbow had been poured into a glass. Gillian probably didn't know the term “specific gravity,” but one look at the layering of colors (and flavors) showed that she understood it better than most physicists. Kenichi took a sip.

“It's interesting,” Marumi said, not wanting to give too much opportunity for Kenichi to respond.

“It's my favorite book,” he said. He pulled a tattered old copy of The Eternal Blade of Tenrai out of his guitar case and showed it to her. “I read it all the time. What's your favorite part?”

“I haven't finished yet,” she said.

“My favorite part is when they enlist the rabbit army to help.” He laughed. “I know it sounds childish, but I get a kick out of that part every single time.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Marumi, her eyes glued to the page.

“Some people say that it's a perfect book,” Kenichi said. “But I bet there's room for improvement. I bet if I were there, I could have figured out a way to prevent Oren from dying.”

“Oren dies?” Marumi said, surprised. Then she caught herself and returned her attention to the words on the page.

“Oh,” said Kenichi, “sorry. I didn't realize you hadn't gotten there yet.”

Marumi made a noncommittal noise.

The two sat there in awkward silence for the rest of her break. Marumi just wanted to die.

Back on the clock, Gillian stepped up beside her. “How romantic,” she said, having watched the two of them sit across from each other, reading the same book.

Marumi scowled.

“He didn't have any money when he came to order,” Gillian said. “He gave it all to that poor homeless man, so I said I'd give him something on the house. He said, ‘Surprise me,’ so I did.”

“You can't keep doing that,” Marumi said. “One day, Mr. Hanzo will notice.”

Gillian laughed. “I think he likes you.”

“I hope not.”

After her shift, she stood outside the cafe, waiting for the bookmobile. She had enjoyed The Eternal Blade of Tenrai, even the part where Oren died. She disagreed with Kenichi. She thought that Oren's death was meaningful in its own way.

Somebody stepped up beside her. He was humming. Like an angel. She looked over and scowled. It was Kenichi. “Nice day,” he said with his perfect smile.

Marumi made a noise that could have been interpreted as an agreement. She turned her head and saw the bookmobile in the distance. She held her book in her hands, ready to return it and get a new one; hopefully one that Kenichi hadn't read a million times.

“Meow,” said a cat. She looked down at the road and saw the same cat from the garbage can that morning, its purple eyes peering right at her. No, at Kenichi. Even the cats love him! It just sat there, in the street, looking up at him.

He noticed it. “Oh, hey there, kitty!” he said. He crouched down to get a better look. Then he noticed the bookmobile. “Oh! Watch out!” The bookmobile was lurching forward at an unusual speed. The driver seemed to be distracted by something buzzing around the cabin. Kenichi leaned forward, scooping up the cat, handing him to Marumi. She took the cat, surprised. Their hands touched.

Kenichi looked at her, his perfect smile, electricity pouring from his fingers where they had brushed hers. Then he disappeared in a blur of bookmobile.

Someone gasped. Someone else screamed. Marumi stepped back, her heart racing. She dropped both the cat and the book. The cat bounded away, but the book crashed to the ground at her feet. She stood there, stunned, as the madding crowd pressed around her.

“Kenichi?” she said, but he did not answer.