A/N: Before I forget: Muta as an ex-librarian of the Cat Kingdom Library is a deliberate nod to Mimi wo Sumaseba: Shiawase na Jikan (Whisper of the Heart: Happy Times), a one-shot story by Aoi Hiiragi (manga artist of the original Whisper of the Heart and TCR) where Muta is indeed encountered by Shizuku as a librarian. I've been dying to use this backstory for Muta for ages, and I doubt it'll be the last time you'll see me referencing it in fic ;)
x
Chapter 6
x
There isn't any mention of button-eyed monsters in the Cat Kingdom fairytales. It takes some time to discern that though – the nature of fairytales are such that a detail like button-eyes are wont to be noted only once or twice in passing, so they can only skim so fast before they risk missing it.
Muta turns out to be a surprisingly focused (well... relatively) researcher than Baron had been expecting, and it is this detail – rather than any previous promises – which convinces him that Muta's story of Toto's absence is genuine. And, if Muta's ploy had been an attempt to reunite him and Haru, their detour to the Cat Kingdom's library is an unlikely choice of locations. Especially given Muta's usual allergy to research. Normally, this kind of work would fall to Baron... and Haru.
He reads the same handful of hieroglyphics four times over before he will admit to himself that his mind has stalled. It takes three more failed attempts before he acknowledges why. Before he dares look inwards to the very simple fact that he misses her.
When he'd first cut off her connection to the Sanctuary, he'd been sure that the knowledge that it was the right thing to do would nullify (in time) the grief that accompanied it. That the reassurance of her continued safety would soothe his own selfish desire to be near.
It has been a month, and the grief is neither soothed nor nullified. Instead, he just keeps finding new things to remind him – the scarf she'd left behind, the book he had saved as her birthday present, the tea she had bought him — and now this, researching fairytales in a library. If she were here, he knows (he knows because he knows knew her, because that's the kind of thing you discover when you fall in love) she'd read aloud passages, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder against him with comfortable familiarity.
If she were here, everything would be alright.
x
After the dragon cave incident, Haru keeps her visits short, and learns to read the numbness before it spreads too far.
It makes joining the Bureau on cases difficult, and then improbable, and then impossible. The paralysation creeps on quicker each time, as if her immunity against the other world is wearing thin, and eventually she has to concede that she is more a hazard than a help.
Sometimes when she visits, the Bureau is empty – "chasing down another lead" the note on the desk says – and other times they sit side-by-side, searching through more of the Bureau's many books for a possible cure. The Bureau becomes a second home, in a way even her local one never quite achieved.
She comes to know where all the cupboards lead, to know all Muta's hiding spots (behind the copy of War and Peace, and underneath the snowglobe on the mantelpiece), to even understand Baron's strange filing system.
It becomes an effort, even, to remind herself that this is the Other Bureau, because somewhere along the way it has just become her Bureau.
Another fruitless search comes to an end (this time delving through the Other Bureau's previous cases) and Haru drops her head back against the Other Baron's shoulder. "You'd think with how easily I found my way here, there'd be more incidences where we met people from other parallel worlds."
"Your case was unique; the Sanctuary used its magic to create a doorway, but it would be beyond the power of most individuals." The Other Baron pauses; Haru can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Of course, there is always another explanation."
"Hm?"
"Perhaps the reason we've never encountered another person from a parallel world is because it's impossible for them to survive here. Perhaps there is no solution."
Haru leans abruptly away, staring balefully at the Other Baron. "You told me you wouldn't give up."
"I'm not. I just..." His fingers intertwine with hers. "I just have to consider every possibility. We're running out of time before it becomes an impossibility for you to even enter our world."
She wants to deny it, wants to pretend it isn't so, but that's all her refusal would be – pretend.
The gramophone, which has been softly playing music through their research, finishes one song and softly begins the next. With the first few notes, Haru immediately recognises it. It's one she's played many times over the years, one that perhaps she played too many times in the week following her dismissal from the Bureau.
And by the way the Other Baron pauses, she guesses the Cat Kingdom likes this song in multiple universes.
"You too?" he asks softly
Haru blushes. "It's silly. The first time I fell for him, it was only a schoolgirl's crush, and yet I can't help thinking of this as our song. I suppose it's because this song was the moment I fell, whereas the second time..." The second time ended with a far uglier rejection. "The second time there wasn't really a single, standalone moment, you know? It just kinda crept up on me until suddenly, boom, I realised I was in love."
"Did you ever tell him that?"
"Yeah, and you know how it ended–"
"No, I mean this song," the Other Baron says. "Did you ever tell him what it meant to you?"
Haru smiles wanly. "No, and after my last encounter with him, I doubt it would have done much except make him self-conscious. Instead, I just did what any lovesick fool would do and listen to it on repeat far too often."
The Other Baron doesn't chorus her self-deprecating laugh, but sits pensive. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that you never danced to this song again?"
"No. Why would we? It's not like it had any major impression on him–"
In a moment, he has risen to his feet and swept Haru up to hers. His hands find with ease the hold for a waltz. "Then what say you to our remedying that?"
Haru blushes again, but this time is accompanied by a roguish grin. "Fine. But I should warn you I haven't waltzed since the Cat Kingdom. I'll probably be even worse than last time."
The Other Baron grins back, equally roguish, and pulls her into the beginning of a vaguely-familiar dance. "Perhaps you simply haven't found the right partner yet."
Haru wrinkles her nose. "I don't think that's actually how it works? I'm fairly certain things like practice and knowing your partner come into it somewhere."
"I know you."
"You knew a Haru who had probably danced more than once in the last decade," she returns and, entirely accidentally but still perfectly proving her point, she steps on his foot. "See?"
"That's because you're thinking too hard about it," the Other Baron says. "Just relax, and let the music guide you."
"Also fairly sure that's not how it works either."
He leans in and Haru's heart traitorously beats in double-time. "Just trust me."
With a request like that, how can she refuse?
She exhales, and she stops recounting her meagre waltzing knowledge, she stops tracking her steps, she stops trying – and suddenly, she is dancing. As if pulled by invisible strings, her feet seem to know the moves, and she effortlessly moves in tandem with the Other Baron. She throws back her head and laughs as she spins away from her partner, feet finding sure ground.
"See?" the Other Baron purrs as he draws her back in. "All it takes is the right partner."
She tilts her head back, ready to shoot a reply – and then falters as she catches sight of the beetle-black buttons.
She realises she has half been expecting (or hoping?) to see green. The guilt is short-lived, for her left leg seizes up with another bout of paralysation, and the Other Baron has to catch her before she falls. He cradles her in his arms as they both sink to the floor. The last few notes of Katzen Blut fade away.
"We'll find a way," he promises. "We'll find a way."
Baron finds mention of something bearing button eyes in the folktales of the Cat Kingdom, but they are told from afar. The creature encountered is given no name, only referred to in passing as a thing to be avoided. They don't detail the nature of the monster, not its motive, only that it poses a danger best kept at a distance.
Beware its web is all the warnings say, and Baron can only hope Haru has not found herself tangled up in its strands.
They keep looking.
x
Haru doesn't mean to fall for Baron a third time, but... well, at this point it's almost an inevitability.
It's definitely a habit.
She has learnt the signs of her descent – knows the parts of him she will fall for first (the flair, the apparent confidence) and the parts she will fall for later (the gentle smiles, the quiet moments) and how it will take root, knotted and intricate, between her heart and lungs. She knows the way her heart will betray her in the beginning (quickened beats and blushing cheeks) and then how her head will follow (lingering just a little longer than she should in his world, going back despite all the reasons she shouldn't).
What she doesn't know this time around is how he'll react to it.
But this Baron is different. She can't help but believe that.
She falls faster than before – at least properly, at least beyond a simple crush – as if her descent is a snow trail, and all her previous ventures down this route have worn it smooth into ice. At least she can be sure this Baron isn't building a wall (both figurative and literal) at the end of the trail.
(It is easier, when this Baron looks at her – even with his button eyes – the way she'd wished the previous Baron had. It is easier to fall, when you know there's someone there to catch you.)
The only real dilemma is the matter of the discordance between his world and her.
She doesn't mean to fall for Baron a third time – but this is the first time she looks at him and thinks he might already know.
x
Baron doesn't know how much time has passed when they eventually stumble across the tale of the Beldam.
It's in a scroll of feline legends, stories collected by rumour and hearsay, this one recounted by a stray cat, in his roaming between worlds.
"The souls the spider collects call her the Beldam, Baron reads aloud, "and it seems to be the closest thing the monster has to a name. In all my travels, I have never seen anything so reminiscent of the monsters told in my kittenhood, as is to be found in the Beldam. She is a kind of witch, nearly fae in her love of games, and resides almost entirely in an adjacent world of her own making. When she does venture out, it is only to lay her traps – button-eyed dolls mimicking her prey – through which she watches them.
"Just as well we left it back at the Bureau then," Muta remarks. "Wouldn't want it to know we're onto it."
"It would explain the strange magic in the doll. Once she has collected enough information," Baron continues, "she then alters her world, weaving puppets which pose as improved, or perhaps idealised versions of her prey's friends and family, using them to create a..." and he falters, if only for a moment, "wonderland kind of life."
"Doesn't sound too bad," Muta says.
"When her prey has fully fallen for the other world, the Beldam offers them the chance to stay forever," Baron reads, "if they allow buttons to be sewn over their eyes."
Muta gags. "I take it back. No wonderland is worth that."
Baron's stomach turns in quite a different way as he sees the next sentence. "This done, the Bedlam is free to take the soul of her victim. What she does with these souls, I do not know. I am only grateful that her appetite seems to be limited to human children, and I have encountered only one who has managed to escape her grasp."
The ensuing silence hangs heavy between them.
"That's it?" Muta asks. "No 'here's her one fatal flaw' or 'kick her in the left ankle and she'll go down like a sack of potatoes'? These things always have a weak point."
"If she does, our author here hasn't seen fit to include it."
"What about the kid who got free of her? How'd they do it?"
"It doesn't say, Muta," Baron says, frustration creeping in, despite his best efforts. "Perhaps they saw the Beldam for what she is, perhaps the Beldam made a mistake, I don't know. All I do know is that it seems she has turned her attention onto Haru."
"We don't know that for sure," Muta says. Even he doesn't sound like he buys his own words. "I mean, all we've got is a weird ragdoll, yeah? Doesn't mean it's the Beldam."
"A ragdoll with strange magic, a missing Toto, and a Haru who still seems to be vanishing off to join the Bureau, despite the fact that none of us have seen her since she left."
"Yeah, but... she's smart. She wouldn't, y'know, just blindly trust some button-eyed doppelgangers, would she?"
Maybe she would if she was pushed, Baron thinks, and he has to barricade his heart off from the barbed regret of his treatment of Haru. If he hadn't barred her from the Sanctuary...
"There's one way to find out," he says instead. "Set a tracking spell on the doll and follow it back to its place of origin. If this Beldam is the cause, we'll know."
x
Haru knows the Other Baron has found something by his stillness when she arrives.
He stands behind his desk, the surface as smothered as usual by papers and books, and looks to her with an expression of hope and fear.
"I've done it," he says. "I've found a way for you to stay."
Haru halts, midway through shrugging off her jacket. "What?"
"I've found the solution."
Relief blossoms through her chest. She shakily hangs her jacket upon the coatstand and doesn't right it when it immediately slips off. "And that's good, right?" She reads the strange atmosphere in the room, the elation interwoven with tension. "That's good?"
Other Muta's paw slaps down on her shoulder, nearly buckling her. "Course it's good," he booms, and steers her towards the desk. "Means we can finally have yer back on cases, where yer belong."
"Only if she accepts," the Other Baron reminds him. His voice is steady, but his fingers tap restlessly against a small black box. It sits atop the usual paperwork, an oddity out of place. Haru resists the urge to tear it open.
"So," she says, "solution. What is it?"
"As I said before, our problem is due to the fact that you don't quite... resonate with this world, and that is causing your... freezing spells."
"I remember."
"So if we can change your frequency so you are more in tune with this world, then you shouldn't experience any side effects."
Haru nods. "Makes sense. So what's in the box? Something to mask my frequency? Like a... tuner, or something?"
"Or something," the Other Baron echoes, and unlatches the box. He swings it open and swivels it round to face Haru.
Inside sits two black buttons.
For a solid moment, Haru's mind draws a blank. She somehow forgets the button-eyed stare of her companions (it's become so normal) and all she can think is they won't suit her coat.
Then realisation hits, and she feels herself balk.
"So... like glasses?" she asks hopefully. "Or a charm?"
The Other Baron smiles gently. "A bit closer-fitting than that, I'm afraid." He curls a gloved finger into the box, drawing out black thread. "I can change the colour, if you'd rather have something closer to your original eyes? Or we can go for something entirely new, if you'd rather."
Haru stares down at the buttons and fights the revulsion. "It would be permanent, wouldn't it?" she asks.
"Some things in life have to be."
"And I would lose my connection to my own world." To Hiromi. Her mother. The Bureau.
To Baron.
"You would trade your resonance with your original world for this one," the Other Baron confirms. "That's the price. You have to choose to belong here."
Choose to belong with me.
Haru blinks – feels the action in a way she's never done before, grieves how she would miss it – and looks up to the Other Baron. She searches for the mourning, the apology in the offer, but can see only nerves and hope.
She realises, only now, she is searching for how her Baron would react to such a deal – and it twists her heart.
"You're right," she says, her voice thick. She sees the Other Baron straighten, eager for her agreement. "You're not my Baron."
He smiles. "A distinction I am forever grateful for."
"He would never have even told me of this solution."
"But I did. It's your life – you deserve the choice."
Haru nods, aware of similar words thrown at her Baron in the past. "It is," she says, "and I do. I still stand by that, but this..." She swallows. "This is not an offer I can accept."
His expression doesn't change. "Of course, you may need more time to come to terms with it, but time is not on our side–"
"I don't need time," Haru responds, sharper than she means to. "I know my answer. It's a no. We'll just have to keep searching for another solution."
"And what if this is the only solution?" the Other Baron demands. "What if we waste our time looking for the answer when it's right in front of us? What if we lose one another again?"
His hands curl around Haru's wrists, a impassioned, desperate gesture, but one that holds just a little too hard.
She feels the beginnings of the paralysation again, her fingers immobilised in place.
"I can't go through that, Haru, and I know you can't either."
"Can't and don't want to are two completely different things," she retorts. She tries to twist her hands subtly free, and her heart skips a beat when they don't budge an inch. "Of course I don't want to leave you, but I'm not going to – to up and abandon the people I love in my world just so I can gallivant off in yours."
"Why not?"
She falters in freeing her hands. "What?"
"Why not?" the Other Baron repeats. He sounds as though he would be wide-eyed, if his buttons allowed such a thing. "What do you have to go back to there?"
Haru's mouth runs dry. "I have a life–"
"You have a life here!"
"Hiromi–"
"Who knows nothing of your true life, who you constantly have to lie to," the Other Baron snaps.
"My mother–"
"The same could be said for her."
"The Bureau–"
"Who you no longer have access to."
"Baron–"
"Who rejected you!" the Other Baron snarls. "Tell me what your world has that this world lacks! Everything's perfect for you, and yet you still can't leave it behind! What more do you want of this world?"
Haru stares. Something lodges in her throat; at first it tastes like fear, and then it solidifies into anger. She feels the freezing spell creep up her wrists and curl about her shoulders. She refuses to let him see it. "Let. Me. Go."
"Even now, as the consequences catch up with you, you still seem to think you can throw this answer away," he growls. "Tell me what you want of this world, and I will make it so,"
"I want you," she says, "to let go of me."
x
The Cat Library reluctantly allows the Bureau to borrow the book, and Muta flicks through it while Baron sets up the tracking spell.
"Yeah, so the author does mention that normally the Beldam seems to have a single door she uses," he calls from his usual sofa seat. "If we can find that and block it off, she'll lose her connection to her prey and have to start from scratch." He leans back to watch Baron fiddle with chalking a tracking circle into the Bureau floor. "That could be something, right?"
"Depends on where this door is," Baron says. He opens a palm in Muta's direction. "Doll, please?"
"Do I have to? It gives me the heebie jeebies."
"Heebie jeebies will be the least of our worries if Haru has indeed caught the interest of the Beldam. Now, Muta."
Muta grumbles, but drops the doll into Baron's hand. Baron doesn't comment on the way he'd picked it up with the tip of his claws, or the face he'd pulled while he did so. Baron sets the doll into the centre of the circle and moves to the edge.
Muta drops the borrowed book onto the desk and stands beside him. "Never like using these things," he grumbles as Baron places a careful hand along the circle's rim. "Always feels like we're about to summon a demon."
"That only happened the once."
"Yeah, and it took us a week to get this place back into order."
The circle begins to glow, light flowing from Baron's palm and streaking along the chalk lines. Where they converge on the centre, the doll begins to rise, as if floating on the light itself. Sparks crackle along the doll's stitching. Only the button eyes are untouched by the glow.
"Hey, I thought this was the fast way," Muta says.
"It is," Baron replies through gritted teeth. His arm shakes and then, as the spell draws more magic from him, begins to revert to wood. "It's resisting me."
"Can I help, or–"
Baron slams his other hand down, and the extra burst of magic breaks through whatever barrier is fighting against him. The doll's button eyes shatter, and a stream of golden light erupts through the cracks. Baron drops his arms from the chalk circle. His right is wooden as far as his elbow.
Muta visibly eyes the damage, and then the strand of golden light which disappears into the Bureau doors and beyond. "So if we follow that..."
"It should lead us to its origins, yes." Baron uneasily rises to his feet, wordlessly accepting the arm Muta offers to steady him. "To Haru."
"And to Toto."
They step through.
