Chapter 4

x

Toto hasn't returned to the Sanctuary in a week, and Muta isn't worried.

He's not.

Toto is old even by the Bureau's standards, an accomplishment not reached if one is probe to recklessness. (Baron doesn't count; Muta is fairly certain the cat Creation has only lived this long because Toto has kept a beady eye out for him.) Toto is the sensible one, the pragmatist (or as close as the Bureau has to one). He is not the sort to be dragged into some dramatic nonsense; he is the sort to drag the rest of them out of it.

Neither is he the sort to vanish for a week without notice.

So Muta isn't worried, not even a little bit. The lie that he told Baron to satiate question on Toto's absence (that he's gone to visit his artisan) don't weigh heavily on him, not at all. Which is why he hasn't been thinking about Toto these last few days, glancing up to the birdbrain's column enough times to give himself neckache.

"You'll have plenty of time to bicker once he's back," Baron remarks, seemingly out of the blue. Muta had been sure that Baron had been caught up in his paperwork, and yet somehow, even with his back to him, Baron manages to give the air of a raised eyebrow. "Honestly, keep this up and I shall have to conclude you feel some kernel of affection for him."

Muta's gaze betrays him and detours to the courtyard on its way to Baron. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Baron makes a sound in the back of his throat which Muta has come to know as hiding a laugh. "My mistake. You are clearly merely distracted by the weather; a curious habit, as the Sanctuary isn't known for its variation."

It is Muta's turn to snort now, refusing to dignify Baron's remark with an excuse. "You don't think it strange?" he hazards. "That he's not back yet?"

Baron flips through another file, mutters, and relocates it to its proper place. "Not really. It's been a while since Toto paid his artisan a visit. I'm sure they have plenty to catch up on." There is only a hint of something which might be bitterness; Muta knows the relationship between Baron and his own artisan has been... fraught.

"Yes, but a week?"

"Time works differently in his artisan's world," Baron replies off-handedly. "He may not have realised so many days have passed."

"And if he's not?" Muta asks. "In his artisan's world?"

Baron pauses, and lowers the file. "Why would he not be in his artisan's world if he's visiting his artisan, Muta?" he asks in a deceptively pleasant voice.

"Bonding road trip?" Muta offers weakly.

"Is he on a bonding road trip?"

Muta makes a face. "Probably not?"

"Where is he, probably, then?"

Muta makes a noise in the back of his throat, only this is less stifled laughter, and more seagull-choking-on-a-too-large-chip kind of sound. "With Haru?"

Baron takes this better than Muta had been expecting – but, then again, Baron has always been a bit of a swan when it comes to emotions: calm and collected on the surface, furious paddling beneath. "I see," he says. "And why am I learning this now?"

"He would've been back by now if everything was fine."

"Why would everything not be fine? Now she's no longer with the Bureau, she shouldn't be getting into trouble."

Muta gives Baron a withering glare that, unfortunately, Baron doesn't see, what with his back turned to Muta. "We're talking about the same Chicky, yeah? She's been throwing herself into nonsense since before she ever joined us. Being part of the Bureau didn't start that."

"It just encouraged it," Baron mutters, but he finally turns to Muta, retrieving his hat and jacket in the same, practiced move. "Then perhaps it is time we paid her a visit." He starts towards the door, faltering beneath the indoor balcony as if only just remembering he couldn't hitch a ride with Toto. "And Muta?"

"Hm?"

Baron smiles brightly. "If this is a trick to get me to talk to Haru, and Toto is actually visiting his artisan, I'm moving the postbox to Toto's column and you can have fun fetching your newspapers from there."

It isn't really fair that he's the only one getting threats, Muta grumbles internally. The both of them had conspired behind Baron's back. If Toto has just bunked off, Muta fully intends to make the postbox a problem for everyone involved.

x

Baron's human façade is almost perfect, save that there's something still a touch feline about his eyes. People generally don't notice – or can't quite pin down his exact cause of uncanniness – and so he can navigate the human world at least without incident, if perhaps not with expertise.

"It's the stop after this," Muta whispers beneath his breath, curled up on the train seat beside Baron. Despite the temporary human spell being something Baron was fairly sure he could adapt for a regular cat, Muta had always refused, making it quite clear just how much he didn't trust Baron's dabbling in magic. Given that Baron's first attempt with the spell on himself had actually transformed him into a full cat for a week, Baron can't exactly argue.

If Muta had agreed to try out the human spell, Baron can't help but note, it'd make taking directions from him a lot easier.

The other reason Muta had refused the human spell, Baron suspects (along with the amusement of watching Baron make a fool out of himself by asking directions from a cat, he's sure) is obvious the second time after a fellow traveller pauses to pet him and smuggle a treat or two in the process.

"See if I ever bake again for you," Baron murmurs as a schoolgirl hops off the train, her lunchbox significantly lighter than when she hopped on. "I thought you said you were worried for Haru and Toto."

"I never said worried," Muta corrects critically. "Anyway, a cat can multitask. And this is us." He jumps down from the seat before Baron can argue any further, and Baron has to get moving before he's left behind.

Despite all the time that Haru had been with them, the Bureau have never visited her flat. They know where she lives – and occasionally they may have crashed through her window on more than one urgent case – but the front door is untrodden ground.

"We could just sneak in through the window," Muta offers as they approach the flat block.

"We're not breaking and entering into Haru's flat."

"Well, not looking like that, sure," Muta says. "You'll need to ditch the humanity, otherwise we'll have the cops called on us. Anyway, it ain't breaking and entering if we don't break anything."

"We're doing this the courteous way," Baron says stiffly.

"Oh good, we can just look like cold callers then."

Baron rings the bell for Haru's flat, not deigning Muta with so much as a glance.

"So what's the plan if she's not home on account of the, y'know, whatever drama she's thrown herself into?" Muta asks. "Can we then use the window?"

The intercom buzzes into life, and only years of practice stops Baron from throwing a triumphant smirk.

"Yes, who is it?"

It's not Haru's voice which rises from the intercom, but still that of a woman. Baron recalls the name of Haru's flatmate – Hiromi. "We're friends of Haru's," he replies. "Is she in?"

"She's at work."

"Doesn't sound too perilous," Baron mouths to Muta, who only scowls.

"Excuse me, but who is this?" Hiromi asks again, her voice sharpening with suspicion. "How did you say you know her?"

"We're friends from the charity she volunteered at," Baron says, repeating the lie he knows Haru gave to explain her frequent Bureau absences. "We were hoping to ask her a few questions."

"Can't you just wait until she has another shift?"

Baron pauses. Blinks. "I'm sorry, another shift where?"

"At the charity," Hiromi answers. She speaks slowly, curtly. "The place you claim to also volunteer at?"

"What?"

Hiromi scoffs. "Look, I don't know who you are or why you're pretending to know Haru, but you'd better scram before I call security."

The intercom goes dead, and Baron and Muta exchange glances. Muta makes no attempt to hide the smirk, however short-lived it is. "So what's Chicky doing still pretending she's part of some bogus charity if she ain't with the Bureau anymore?"

"Perhaps she really has taken up volunteering," Baron suggests, but it sounds weak even to him.

"Right... and it overlaps so perfectly with our odd hours that her flatmate hasn't even noticed a difference, I don't think." Muta raises an eyebrow. "Come on, we did it your way, now it's time for mine."

x

Climbing in through a third floor window is a lot more cumbersome, Baron rediscovers, without a convenient crow to fly one up. Luckily, Muta does offer an alternative, even if it does require yet another shape-shifting change.

"This does feel a tad undignified," Baron remarks as, now transformed into a full cat, the two felines sit by the apartment block's door and wait for a passing resident to take pity on them.

"It would've been a whole less dignified if we'd tried scaling the wall," Muta reminds him. "Now, shush and follow my lead."

A man coming back from a grocery run approaches the door, but pauses before he reaches the key panel. Even laden with bags, he shoots the cats a grin. "Hello there, Moon. And you've even got a friend. You want in?"

Muta gives a low, plaintive mew.

"Gotcha. Give me a moment..." The man taps the code into the panel, and there's a click as the door lock releases. He nudges the door open. "There you go. Someday they should just put in a cat flap for you, huh?"

Muta gives an agreeing mew and slips inside. Baron follows suit, and their benefactor even shares the elevator with them, stopping at the third floor without even asking.

"You've done this before," Baron accuses once they're safely alone on the third floor corridor. "How often have you snuck in like this?"

"When I do it, it's called visiting," Muta says, "and Haru's around to let me in. Today, though..." And he ignores the doors to the flats, making instead a beeline for an ajar window. He slips out onto the ledge which is far too narrow for humans, and only slightly too narrow for cats.

Baron follows after, and watches with blatant disapproval as Muta jiggles open the next window along. "This looks an awful lot like breaking and entering," Baron remarks.

"Relax. This window was busted long before Haru moved in."

"Strangely enough, that doesn't reassure me."

"It's rented, isn't it? Chicky's lucky the place came with carpet." Muta clambers inside and glances back to his unwilling accomplice. "So are ya coming in, or does your moral sensibilities forbid it?"

Baron scowls, but ducks inside.

The room they've found themselves in is clearly Haru's room – judging by the coat hanging on the door and the general messiness which neither growing up nor a life-changing experience in the Cat Kingdom had altered. It looks slept-in, but not so much lived-in, with the mess only extending as far as laundry and bedsheets. The book Baron had last seen Haru reading is still bearing a bookmark.

"Does anything look amiss?" Baron asks.

"Why're you asking me?"

"You're the one who has been here before."

Muta grumbles, and drops down onto the desk just beneath the window. "She ain't exactly gonna leave a big ol' SOS sign for us. Although..." He jumps down onto the floor and sticks a paw into the small plastic bin.

"Muta! What do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for clues?" He pulls out some crumpled paper, smooths through it, and then drops it back in to continue rummaging. "Dentist appointment... noodle packets... junk mail..."

"Were you hoping to find Toto perhaps tucked away in there?" Baron asks dryly.

"I was expecting to find – I dunno, ice cream tubs, tissues, bad poetry, whatever it is people do these days when they get their heart broken." He shoots Baron a pointed look. "There's not even a chocolate wrapper in here."

"Maybe she's sturdier than you seem to think," Baron says.

"If you believed that, you wouldn't have kicked her out," Muta mutters. "And she's plenty sturdy, but she got her heart trampled on and then pushed out entirely. I'd expect some sign of that."

"Her flatmate seems to be of the impression that she's still volunteering with us," Baron says. "Maybe she's found something else to occupy her time."

Muta's head shoots up out of the bin. "Yer right. Her bag's up there on the desk – the one she always took on cases – perhaps that'll tell us what she's been up to."

"I am not going through her bag."

Muta groans. "Fine. I'll do it then."

"You're not–"

Muta leaps up onto the desk. In their current forms, he towers over Baron. "Yeah, I am. And if you were at all paying attention, instead of trying to ignore it in hopes you don't have to face the consequences of your mess, then you'd wonder why the bag Haru took on Bureau cases looks like it was used yesterday."

Baron blinks, and then looks anew at the bag. He now notes the fresh burn along the strap, and the scratches along the base; he sees the way it slumps, as if absent-mindedly thrown to one side after a long day. Unease flares up inside him. "Is she... still going on cases?"

"It ain't her if she ain't sticking her nose in someone else's business," Muta snorts, and rolls the bag onto its side. "And... bingo."

Baron knows well the items which Muta drags out – the first aid kit, the heavy-duty torch, a pocket knife, to name but a few – all bundled up and clearly still in use. "She's still..."

"Obviously." Muta trawls a paw through the bag's depths. "Wonder where she's getting the clients from. I mean, we've got a whole setup at the Bureau, and she's not exactly able to hand out business cards, is she?"

Baron's heart twists as fresh dents in the torch catch the light. It looks as though it was used to fend something off. "Her leaving was meant to keep her safe," he laments. "Not leave her to throw herself into yet more trouble."

"Eh, you know what they say. Yer can take the Chicky outta the Bureau, but yer can't take the Bureau out of the Chicky... or something like that. Huh. That's new."

"What's new?"

Muta picks out a tiny doll, small enough to fit comfortably within a human palm. It's built like an old rag doll, soft stuffing and button eyes, and is unmistakably, unerringly, designed after Haru. "Never figured her to be the doll type."

"I don't believe she is."

They stare down at the tiny doll. After a dubious moment, Muta turns it over so its button eyes are watching the desk surface. "This ain't one of those 'transformed into a toy' kinda deals, is it? Y'know, where something else takes her place? 'Cause it wouldn't be the first time."

Baron cautiously raises a paw towards the doll. He can feel magic rolling off it – but there is not the tang of shape-shifting to it. Instead, the magic feels... off. Baron withdraws his hand. His mouth tastes dusty, like cobwebs. "The magic's not of this world," he says, "nor any the Bureau has encountered, but it's not a shape-shifting spell."

"Then what? 'Cause we both know she's doesn't empty her bag out, just refills it, and that thing was right at the bottom." Muta eyes the doll warily. "It's been there for a while."

"She would have brought up if she'd come into possession of it while with us," Baron adds.

"Yeah. But she didn't."

"Maybe a grateful client gave it to her." He still hopes that this is all a misunderstanding, that in pushing her away, he didn't leave her stranded in deeper trouble, but he knows – looking at that doll – that something is terribly amiss.

"Yeah, and maybe she didn't know it was there at all. I don't know, it just gives me the heebie jeebies."

Baron allows himself a raised eyebrow. "The heebie jeebies?" he echoes.

"Yeah. It's the eyes." Muta shivers. "The Cat Kingdom has stories of button-eyed monsters, and they ain't pretty."

Baron straightens, stepping back from the doll. "What kind of monsters?"

"I can't remember – this was back before I met you, when I was still on speaking terms with the Cat Kingdom."

"Well then, it's just as well you are again." Baron reverts back to his usual Creation shape. "Back on speaking terms with the Cat Kingdom. I think it's time we made a visit to their library."