There once might have been another beginning or, should I say, another end, to Haru Yoshioka's odyssey. From that enchanted country where, a handful of years before, she had discovered that she had the power to love, hate, dare, fight, and speak her mind, from that land where she had finally unlocked adulthood's treasure chest – she could have never returned. Still, the Cat Kingdom had become a collection of flashbacks among others, and she would mentally fight off, without much success, the idea they were not as trifling as they appeared. There were times when she would allow herself to linger over the memory of a smooth gloved hand drawing tiny circles on her cheek; dreams, too, in which she would try to grab that tiny human-like hand, and listen, as one would enjoy their favorite piece of music from memory, to the remote voice of that very special gentleman addressing her: "Always believe in yourself. Do this and no matter where you are, you'll have nothing to fear," the voice still said; and that voice, through a honey-blonde muzzle, had taught her every single thing she had to know about the preciousness of life. "A figurine!" she would think. "A figurine with a soul – the statue of a cat! He sould have remained a mere object on a dollhouse's windowsill – yet it is an object that had me realise I was not meant to endure the willpower of others, that I, too, possessed that willpower. That I was not meant to watch my life go by, passively – it's as though I used to be an empty figurine myself. But Baron has breathed a tiny breeze of his own will into me, and it has kept growing ever since. Oh, Baron, Baron! Your words turned my fate upside down, for the better – their sound was moist and sweet. Baron, you've remained silent for so long!"

"Hey! Who's that guy you won't stop talking about?"

Haru shivered. "Hiromi!" she yelled at the young woman who had just passed the threshold. "Was I having a conversation with myself again? Aloud? Oh, good god, Hiromi – please, tell me I'm not as mad as I seem," she sighed, winking. Both friends burst into laughter when they noticed that all the cardboard boxes Haru had piled up on her forearms had fallen down, causing each of the items they contained to hit the floor with a muffled thump. The red-haired girl made Haru a quick yet sincere apology for the mess she had occasioned, then helped her pick her things up. "Nah, it's fine, Hiromi – there wasn't anything fragile in those," Haru said, pointing at the knocked-over cartons with a confident finger. "Only supple, squashy kind of things. Like sponges, silicon ustensils, towels. Or those pieces of clothing over there."

Hiromi bent forward to be able to grab them. It was an untidy pile of red cotton aprons on which Naoko, Haru's mother, had embroidered the words "Donyoku neko no pan-ya - Bakery of the Glutton Cat" in white letters.

"So, you're starting tomorrow morning, aren't you? Machida told me," she explained while carefully folding them up.

"Machida? Oh, it's been years since I haven't caught a glimpse of him – where did you meet? And how does he know about the shop?" Haru asked.

"Well, we saw each other on the Crossroads yesterday; Machida said he had just come across the bakery. He could see you from the outside, but he didn't dare ringing the bell as you were looking really busy. He read the placard you've hung, still," Hiromi informed her and, being done with the picking, got up on her legs. "He said you were looking really pretty," she then added with a cheeky smile. "And he was happy to see both of us again, too. I'm into biology and he studies economics, that's why we don't have the chance to meet often."

"Oh. OK," her friend answered in a neutral voice, trying to conceal her main worries with a sad smile.

"I see," Hiromi muttered as she remembered the first words she had spoken in the Glutton Cat's doorway. "You're concerned with somebody else, somebody whose name's... Baron, right?"

"Mmh... maybe. But why should I care anyway? Seems like I've found peace here. Deeper... feelings will wait, won't they?"

"I believe you're right," Hiromi answered. "Wait – look out the window, Haru! Here comes that same bulky cat again. The white one. He was already sitting there yesterday." She pointed at an off-white and rather obese feline, with a light brown patch on its left ear, that was silently staring at the store front while slowly licking its trembling paw. Hiromi could sense its distress from where she stood. "Looks like it's got something big on its mind, if cats do have a mind," she thought – she could not communicate with animals as Haru used to tell her she could.

"Muta!" Haru gasped as soon as she spotted the cat.

"Oh, you know that chap, then." Hiromi asked her.

"I hadn't seen him for a while," her friend explained as she promptly got to the door; that brisk movement sent a shiver down Hiromi's spine. As a consequence of that jolt, all the aprons she had fetched tumbled out again. "In fact, it's been months! Muta! Come over here, bud!" She flung the door open – and as she did so, Muta stood on all fours, and ran away without further ado. "Muta! Muta!" Haru insisted, but the big cat obviously refused to listen to her. As she carried on shouting its name, her voice cracked like China porcelain, and she felt that she was about to cry. "But why won't he come? Oh, Muta, you stubborn, apathetic, adorable fish eater!" she said, wiping off her tears with a shaky hand.

"Oh, come on, Haru – he's just a catto," Hiromi comforted her, wrapping her shoulder with a reassuring arm.

"No, he's not just any catto, Hiromi, I swear! I know him so well..." she murmured in her broken voice, fighting the urge to run after him, then burst into real tears. "I don't know what's been wrong with me lately. My job suits me, I have so many plans for the future, I managed to leave the house at last - yet I can't help thinking about things that happened to me in the past, and it always ends up like this. Poor little Haru, sobbing like an idiot!"

"Hey, Haru. It's alright. He'll come back, I'm sure. And we all have breakdowns! You have no reason to be ashamed by yours," Hiromi tried to comfort her. "Let's talk about the pan-ya."

"Fair enough," Haru replied after inhaling deeply to get a grip on herself. Once her teardrops were dried up and her breath had decreased, she added: "I'm much more locquacious when it comes to that subject." She tilted her head, reading the digital clock that Naoko had helped her fix to the wall behind the counter just the day before. "Oh, a quarter to one already!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you a bit hungry? I've brought leftovers from yesterday's dinner with mum if you want some – there's too much of it for a single serving anyway."

"As a matter of fact, I haven't eaten anything since I left the house this morning," Hiromi told her. "I had a lecture at eight, then did some shopping at the sûpâ for my aunt, and finally visited her. She lives on her own, in a flat, and she's beginning to experience severe pain in her joints, so it's a bit complicated for her at the moment. I got here by noon and wandered off a little before coming to say hi. But yes, I'd appreciate a quick lunch – that hard-boiled egg and rice breakfast didn't last very long in there," she laughed while placing a hand on her empty tummy. "-I'm starving. I guess you are, too."

"Ya know, Hiro, all these ups and downs really curb my appetite these days. It's as if I never got hungry," Haru sighed, inviting Hiromi to follow her behind the counter. "I eat because I know I've got to. And because," she added with a wink, "whether I'm in the mood for food or not, I know I'll be satisfied still, because it tastes amazing."

Hiromi was still walking into her high-school friend's steps when she figured out that they had been travelling to another room. The two of them stood in a spacious kitchen equipped with all the furniture and domestic appliances that the young baker would need: ovens that were two times a young girl's height, capacious polished surfaces intended for prepping and kneading, refregirators and freezers, and even a dishwasher. Haru stepped to one of the smallest fridges, opened it, then took out a cathead-shaped bentô which she deposited on one of the clean metal surfaces.

"That's so sweet of you, really," Hiromi thanked her. "What's inside?"

"French cuisine," Haru answered as she unclipped the box, split its content in two, and put it in the microwave. "It's called petit salé aux lentilles – that's basically a green lentil casserole dish with bits of onion, carrot, and cubes of pork meat. Here you go."

Both friends enjoyed their meal in utmost silence. Once Hiromi had wiped the sauce off with a piece of baguette bread which Haru had made, she resumed their talk where it had stopped:

"So you did the advanced bread program at the Kyoto Pastry and Bakery Art College – well, that's what you told me when we got our sentâ and left kôtôgakkô."

"Yep, that's what I decided to do. Mum was a bit disappointed at first – the sentâ is so hard to pass, and I managed getting through it somehow, so why choose a mere senmon gakkô instead of a daigaku? But it made sense to me, Hiromi. I'll tell you something: during our last year of kôtôgakkô, something weird happened to me and I... I changed, for the better. Remember that day when I kept a grey cat from being knocked over by a truck?"

"Yes, the one that could talk," Hiromi laughed lightheartedly while placing her plate in the dishwasher. "I remember that."

"And I guess you also remember the day on which you announced me that Machida had broken up with that ninth grader he was dating at the time?"

"The day you told me you didn't give a damn?"

Haru nodded.

"Well, in the meantime, something big happened and made me grow. It felt like sheding my gross teenage skin, like a sloughing reptile. I felt much more confident, and my fate was clearer to my eyes than it had ever been. I discovered my hands weren't that clumsy. I discovered I could bake and cook things with them. That path appealed to me, so I took it regardless of what my family said, regardless of my sentâ."

"I do agree, Haru – you can cook! Thanks for lunchtime. It was terrific!" Hiromi candidly exclaimed.

"What about you, Hiro?" she asked her friend while putting one of the pan-ya aprons on. Last time we met, you were completing your second daigaku year. How's the third one been going?"

"Awfully good. I got rid of it without much trouble. Now I'm five months into the fourth one. Quite tough, but I'll get my gakushi level if I get through. What motivates me is that if I do pass, I'll be able to settle in Osaka with my boyfriend and search for a job there. We don't see each other that much. But what's up on that side, Haru? Apart from that Baron..."

"No one, Hiro, there's no one," she answered immediately. "And I don't even love him, do I? We couldn't possibly... match, anyway. Well, we could have. But it's too late," she whispered, thinking about the way the Creation had walzed her cat self around the ballroom. "We could have, then," she pondered, and felt like a miserable wreck, once again. "But Baron was right when he bid me not to achieve my transformation into a cat. It was better for me, because I'm meant for this world, not the other. Baron knows human hearts with more depth than humans do – if he told me so, he must be right. He has to be."

"Haru?" Hiromi enquired. "Is it OK? I promise I won't talk about him anymore if you don't want me to. You just tell me, and I'll stop."

"Ah. Sorry. Had my head in the clouds for a moment. Having any plans for the afternoon?" she asked in a distant voice.

"None," Hiromi sighed. "I don't have any lecture at university until half past four. Maybe I could hep you fix little things up for the pan-ya's launch tomorrow, if you need a couple of extra hands."

"I was just about to make cookies; you can give me some assistance if you want to," Haru kindly offered. "We'll make two different batches: a typically british one, with chocolate chips, and another which is a recipe of my own."

"I guess I'm ready to begin!" Hiromi cried out before giving her friend a warm hug.

Haru and Hiromi were talking outside the pan-ya, waiting for the cookies to bake. Haru had cradled her head into the palm of her white hand, darting at the terrace where Muta used to take most of his afternoon naps – but the chair on which he would usually slouch was empty. Thinking of the two and a half years that had gone by, she could not help but feel guilty for the hole she had left in the life of the Cat Bureau; just a few days after receiving her sentâ grades, she had seen Muta, Toto and the Baron again. She could not deny the fact that she had – Muta had escorted her from the Crossroads to the Bureau; she had burst into the lilliputian wooden house (as nimbly as she could, with regard to the size of her human limbs) and Baron, beaming at her, had offered her some tea (with milk – great choice) before inviting her to sit down and enquiring after her health as well as the course of her studies; and Toto had joined the rejoicing party. It had been the very last time, and remorse crept inside her heart like a predator on the look-out as she considered the opportunities of visiting them which she had missed. Her whole soul was aching, because she knew that her adventure partners cared about her more than anyone else did. "That's why Muta didn't want to come and let me scratch him earlier," she reflected. "He's mad at me because I never came back in two years' time. He thinks I'm not concerned about how the three of them are doing. How wrong he is – the farther I was from them, the deeper my rememberance of them was."

When they got back to the pan-ya to store the cookies in blue and yellow glass jars, Hiromi noticed that she was late for her biology lesson, and left in a hurry, without forgetting to smooch Haru on the cheek as she grabbed her bag and made her way to the kitchen door.

Once Hiromi had left, Haru picked five of the cookies from her own favorite batch and put them into a sakura-flowered paper napkin which she tied in a lovely knot; the biscuits were salty and buttery, with a light sweet taste of green tea, and they were sprinkled over with crystallised lemon chunks. In the napkin, she left a hand-written note that read: "Muta, here are some of the cookies I've made today; they have sea salt, ginger, a hint of matcha, and chips of candied lemon in them. Save two of them for Toto and the Baron – advise the latter to dip them into a warm cup of latte tea, the cookies taste even nicer when slightly moist. Lots of love to every one of you. I'm sorry."

As a post-scriptum, she added: "Baron, it's my own special batch of cookies. They're a bit different each time, so... I can't guarantee the flavor."

When Haru left the bakery a few hours later, the sun was diving into the rather polluted horizon, and the wind was beginning to get cooler with the upcoming night. She dared a look down while locking the front door.

At her feet, on the sidewalk, was an empty space where she had placed the packet of cookies.

Hey there! Thanks for stopping by. That debut chapter was a bit long for what it contains, I know, but things will soon speed up!

Hope you enjoyed it all the same!

The author :3