His life was lost while struggling for the slave?

Cats in Nekopara are undoubtedly second-class citizens, if that. They are closer to sub-human, as society treats them as pets and beings who lack autonomy… There still exists a shortage for places where cats can live and their inevitable fate appears to be finding an owner who will put them to work.

- Chiaki Hiraki, The Worker’s Nekopara: A call to arms against nekonomic exploitation (2020)

Today was a beautiful day like any other in Japan. The sun was rising, the cherry blossoms were gently falling, the catgirls were being oppressed... You know, the usual.

Hidden behind a veil, one made out of the backstreets of a sprawling metropolis, was a young girl going through her daily routine. She only had a dirty, oversized dress, a pair of cheap plastic sandals and a canvas bag full of junk, which was hanging over her one and only arm, to her name. She was of short stature, her unkempt hair brown and unremarkable.

Someone of her sort easily blended in to the backstreets that set the stage for her day-to-day life. Smelly streets, the oft rude yet scarce inhabitants, a never-ending stream of recyclable waste… She felt as if this routine would never come to an end. Quite frankly, it’d never end if some miracle wasn’t to happen.

This girl wasn’t looking for a miracle at the moment though, she was more concerned rummaging through the contents of a garbage can that had been left next to a rusty, abandoned office cabinet. Paper, paper… Wait! No, that’s just even more paper… How much paper do you people need?!

She continued dumpster diving until she reached the bottom of the accursed paper laden bin. Her paper-related disappointment was cleared when she found the miracle that she wasn’t looking for: a whole can of tuna. “Finally!” she shouted in excitement at what was clearly a miracle.

There was no one to hear her celebratory exclamation in the lonely backstreets. She spent a minute of lonely merriment before moving on to her next target. My luck seems to be good today, there’ll probably be something valuable in this cabinet as well! Okay, now I gently open the door…

“More tu… nyah?”

Inside the cabinet was not tuna, far from it, but an old Westerner supporting a bushy, magnificent yet wild beard. He was quite the monster of a man, being around an inch or two taller than the girl. The leather coat he wore looked fashionably vintage as if it belonged to two centuries prior.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

Silence reigned ‘till its reign finally came to an end thanks to the old man. “Hello, young la-”

Kerchunk.

His polite greeting was cut short by the young girl rudely shutting the cabinet. Don’t wanna’ get caught up in your shenanigans, gramps. Best to leave drunk tourists alone. She turned back, intending to forget this queer incident.

Yet, it seemed that the queer incident didn’t intend to forget her that easily. The cabinet doors flung open again, revealing an old man who looked to be ever so slightly ticked off. “Ahem. Young lady, it is quite rude not to reciprocate greetings and I believe that it is especially rude if you shut a door in someone else’s face!”

Seeing such a man run up to her was quite scary, to say the least. I’ll just quickly apologize to get him off my tail! She bowed as much as she could in a show of apology. “I’m so sorry, gra- sir! I was just a bit surprised when I… uhh… suddenly found an old man in a cabinet.”

“Right… It is understandable that a young lady such as yourself might be discombobulated when having an encounter of the unexpected kind with an old man in a cabinet. Nevertheless, do try to conduct yourself better next time young lady.” The old man now had a more relaxed, cordial expression. He was conducting himself surprisingly well for someone who had just come running out of a cabinet. “Right, excuse me for my rudeness, I haven’t finished introducing myself. My name is John Brown, young lady.”

“I’m Maya, nice to meetcha sir!”

“Maya, is it?” Maya was still ceaselessly bowing. “Young lady, could you stop bowing? I’m not going to be birching you or anything, you have no need to be worried. It is also quite hard to hear you when your head is so down lo…” Brown paused as he slowly noticed the existence of something unusual near the posterior of the bowing Maya. “By the Lord, what is that furry object which is wagging behind you?!”

“This? It’s called a tail.” Gramps must have had a wild night if he can’t recognize a cat’s tail.

Brown’s eyes were wide open in surprise. He pointed at the top of Maya’s head “And if I’m seeing correctly, the young lady has ears of a feline as well…”

“Yeah. You’re seein’ correctly.” Never seen a catgirl before? What’s the big deal?

“By our Heavenly Father above… am I still of sound mind?” Brown looked around him, only to find towers of concrete and glass that dwarfed the Tower of Babel in their height. “And- and the language that you and I currently speak is definitely not English… Where has Providence led me to?”

Huh? Maya was beginning to think that Brown might not be a lost, drunk tourist. Eh, can’t hurt too much if I humor him for a bit. “Gramps, we’re in Tokyo. In Japan.”

“Japan… That is an Oriental nation, isn’t that correct, young lady?”

“‘Oriental’? Okay boomer, it’s the 21st century already. Get on with the times.”

“We’re in the second millennium?”

This guy ain’t making fun of me, is he… No, he sounds way too serious and grave for someone just messing around. Maya was beginning to feel sorry for the lost old man. “Got any relatives or anyone else? Maybe they’d help you out?”

Brown looked somber in his reply. “21st century… that would be over a hundred years. No, young lady, I do not believe any one of my acquaintances would have survived that long. Even if they did, it would be impossible to contact them, so far away in the United States, all the way in the Orient.”

Maya didn’t exactly know how long humans could live for. Someone possibly living for over a hundred years sounded impressive to her nonetheless. “Then, you got nowhere to stay?”

“That is unfortunately the case, young lady.” replied Brown. “Though, in my short stint being locked in it, I have found this cabinet to be decently insulating and comfortable. I surmise that it should be suitable as accommodation in the great pinch that I unfortunately currently find myself in. Thank the Lord for providing me with such a suitable place at such a time!”

Maya shook her head, crushing the cabinet-sleeping related plans of Brown. “Gramps, you’re not going to be thinking that for long. Believe me, I’ve slept in a cabinet once or twice. It definitely ain’t fun.” He looks to be trustworthy enough. “Follow me, there’re better places for your catnap.”

Brown, obviously, had no idea about the layout of the city he found himself in. He concluded that the best course of action was to follow someone who did have an idea. “If that isn’t going to cause any trouble for you, young lady, then you may lead the way.”

And so, Brown and Maya navigated through the labyrinthine backstreets of Tokyo. She avoided crowded areas; the authorities weren’t too keen on strays being in the public eye. Brown, as if a curious child navigating through a candy shop, kept a close watch on everything he encountered. The cityscape of a 21st century city seemed as alien to him as the surface of Mars. He kept bombarding Maya with inquiries as he encountered the products of two centuries of scientific advancement. She asked various questions about Brown’s life in the United States in turn.

“Young lady, what would that queer little metal box with a yellow triangle on it be?”

“It’s… a box for electricity, I guess.”

“Electricity? Electricity is now used inside cities?”

“Yeah. I think. It lights the streets and powers real big machines ‘n stuff.”

“Interesting…”

“You don’t have electricity back in America?”

“No, we used gas for the lamps and steam for the machines, young lady.”

“Poor Americans…”

The backstreets eased into suburbs of neatly lined residences along the Tama River. Brown, a foreigner in terms of geography and chronology, stuck out like a sore thumb. Residents watched this incongruous pair go on their merry way with a mix of mild confusion and much amusement.

“Young lady, why is that gentleman holding that bar of metal towards our general direction?”

“That’s a phone. Think he’s tryna’ snap a photo of you.”

“How does a camera fit inside that tiny space? The picture that gets developed from that is most certainly going to be too tiny to be of much use.”

“Dunno. Beats me.”

Suburban development began to make itself scarce while the river continued to flow on and on. Scattered among these undeveloped parts were makeshift tents of plastic, housing those who had no better option.

Maya led Brown along a path that deviated from the river that’d eventually end at their destination: a run-down two-story concrete building that seemed to have been abandoned long ago. It lacked windows, doors, or anything that one would expect from any respectable building. There was a huge discarded sign next to the building with “Tamaside Patisserie” written on it. One didn’t need to rack their brain to figure out why a patisserie in the middle of nowhere would be abandoned.

Maya approached the front of the building. She knocked on some concrete that’d normally house the doorframe. “We’re home!”

The inside of this former patisserie wasn’t much better compared to the inside. Its walls had long ago been conquered by invading armies of mold. Over the moldy concrete laid an earthen charcoal grill and various bits of food that had been strewn alongside it. Its occupants didn’t have anything else that could occupy the room.

First to reply to the arrival of the Brown-catgirl duo was the only other person inside the building, that being another catgirl warming her hands near the charcoal grill. “Sis!” She wore a tattered suit that was a few sizes too big for her, fastened to her with a belt made out of salvaged fabric of some description. She looked exactly the same as Maya in terms of appearance, other than the different outfit and her white hair.

“Misha, I’ve got something special for you!” Maya handed her currently most valuable possession, that being the invaluable can of tuna, over to her sister.

Misha spoke slowly and her speech lacked consistent intonation. “Uhm… tu… tuna, er… tasty. Thank you… very.” The sisters warmly embraced each other, before Misha took notice of the century-old abolitionist in the room. “Er… geezer. Geezer who?”

“This geezer’s John Brown. Geezer, this is Misha.” Brown was slightly dissatisfied at being called a geezer but he kept cool for now “He has nowhere to go so he’ll be staying here.” Maya proceeded to summarize everything she knew about Brown to Misha.

With the end of introductions came time for food. The can of tuna was all that was available, which amounted to little food for the three of them. Brown didn’t even have time to thank the Lord for granting him the meal before the sisters finished the entire can, leaving nothing for him. He didn’t mind it; food was more important for the young’uns who were still growing up.

It had gotten quite late by the time they arrived and finished the above. The sisters went to bed, ‘bed’ meaning ‘laying on the cold concrete floor’, after having finished their meal.

Brown couldn’t sleep; he was kept awake by his own thoughts. He had not died after being killed. Such a miracle could only be described as a divine act for him. There must have been a good reason as to why Providence had sent him to the new millennium. Yet, as he had learned from Maya, there were no slaves in this country.

What was Brown, or more accurately, what was God’s divine instrument for the deliverance of the slaves meant to do in Japan?

His deep thoughts were interrupted by Maya. “Ugh. Can’t sleep.” My back’s hurting like hell from the concrete floor. She was surprised when this complaint got a reply from Brown in the form of singing.

Blow ye the trumpet, blow
The gladly solemn sound;
Let all the nations know,
To earth’s remotest bound.
The year of jubilee is come;
The year of jubilee is come;
Return ye ransomed sinners, home.

She didn’t understand the lyrics at all, but the voice of Brown was a surprisingly comforting one. It was a warm, reassuring voice that only an experienced father or grandfather could conjure. Brown watched Maya fall asleep, in a soundly manner as if she was not resting on bare concrete.

That night, Brown came to realize his purpose in this new world. It was true that he couldn’t continue his fight against the horrible injustices of slavery like he had done previously. Yet, he believed that every day that he was alive was by divine mandate, a mandate which ordered him to fight in the belief, nay, in the truth that all men were created equal.

If he couldn’t fight against slavery then old John Brown would fight for the catgirls.