Messenger Cat Café

by Nagi Shimeno

Genres: General Fiction; Animals; Family Life; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

"A much-needed dose of comfort and positivity." —Shanna Tan, translator of Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop

Tabby cat Fuuta has passed into the afterlife and will do anything to see his human again . . . if only he can not disrupt the balance of the universe.

After a long life with a loving human family, tabby cat Fuuta has passed into the afterlife, but he is not as far from his owner, Michiru, as it seems. Slight openings bridge the divide between the lands of the living and the dead, and they can be traversed.

Eager to see Michiru again, Fuuta interviews for a position at Café Pont, a café that exists in the liminal space between the two worlds, known for its unique message delivery service: Customers leave requests with the name of the person they wish to meet, and a messenger cat is assigned to arrange the "meeting."

If Fuuta doesn’t maintain plausible deniability, he could cause panic amongst the living, or worse: He could upset the balance of the universe itself. It is a weighty task for an old tabby cat, but Fuuta is up for the challenge. After all, the job offers a special reward: the right to see Michiru. And he’ll do anything to reunite with his family.

Release date: February 17, 2026

Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons

Print pages: 256

Sample

1

I woke up to the sound of the lecture hall's closing bell.

"Whew," I said with a sigh. "Finally, it's over."

I extended my front paws and arched my white-striped, caramel-colored back as far as my chair allowed. When I glanced to my side, I noticed Natsuki, a black cat, making an annoyingly studious expression and muttering to herself.

"Tenet one: Sleep early, wake up early. Tenet two: Get proper exercise. Tenet three: Do not overeat. Tenet four: Take care of your own needs. Tenet five . . ."

Just a few moments ago, our brown tabby lecturer had recited those rules-the Five Tenets-for living in this world.

"You take this stuff too seriously," I told Natsuki, finishing my stretch. "Those are the same rules we lived by before. There's no reason to call them the 'Five Tenets.'"

Natsuki glanced up at me. Her eyes were practically spinning. I thought they might pop out of her head.

"But Yuna took care of me until now," she complained. "I don't know how I'm ever supposed to take care of my own needs . . ."

Yuna was Natsuki's human. Former human, I supposed. She'd adopted Natsuki from an acquaintance's house when Natsuki had been only two months old. At the time, Yuna lived alone-she had just graduated college and gotten her first real job. Years later, when Natsuki was twelve, Yuna got engaged, and both of them moved in with her fiancé. Thankfully he'd loved cats, too. He and Yuna took care of her together for about five years, until Natsuki eventually came into this world at eighteen years old.

"Just don't start sobbing," I said, trying to give off an air of seniority, but I wasn't managing my emotions well, either.

Was Michiru okay? Was she attending her college classes? She'd always talked about how uncomfortable she felt going to school. Was she getting along with her friends?

Ever since she was little, Michiru had been shy, not to mention quick to cry. Her teary-eyed face surfaced in my memory and made my heart clench.

I hopped down from my chair with an extra spring in my step to hide my sniffle.

2

I'd arrived in this world in the morning, three days ago.

I couldn't remember my cat parents. I faintly recalled shivering on a cold patch of concrete (which I'd later learned was a bicycle parking lot for an apartment building). It had been a frigid night. All I could do was curl up into a ball. Papa had been on his way home from the office when he'd found me. If he hadn't taken me in, I would've been sent here a lot sooner.

After that night, I lived with him and Mama-and Michiru, who was a baby at the time. I spent nineteen years as their pet cat, which was a long life in that world, and I was proud to say that I'd died a natural death in my golden years.

I got to know the black cat Natsuki this afternoon. She must've just arrived, because I'd caught her wandering around, unsure of what to do. So I talked to her.

I assumed she'd been spoiled growing up. She was sent here with so many toys, she needed two arms (legs, in our case) just to haul them around. A brightly colored stuffed bird-her favorite, apparently-had hung from her mouth. Though she hadn't looked like the toy comforted her all that much. I'd felt sorry seeing her like that, so I figured I'd help her out.

To officially join this world, one had to first attend a training seminar, or "guidance" of sorts. I'd been scheduled to attend the one this afternoon, so I brought her along with me.

Now that the training seminar was over, Natsuki had a lot to say.

"Don't you think it's cruel that we can't go see our humans for the next seven months? I wanna see Yuna right now," Natsuki complained, still gloomy.

"You'd only scare her if you went too soon. You have to wait," I reasoned.

"The lecturer said the earth would 'warp,' right?"

"That was a weird way to phrase it. I think he meant this world and that world would become unbalanced if we alerted anyone to our presence. Deceased humans can go back during the Obon festival, and even get close enough to observe while the living practice the seven days of Higan. But us cats get some flexibility, too, once our first seven months are up."

"When exactly is seven months from now again? Let's see . . ."

Natsuki counted on her toes, though they didn't have the right joints for counting, so she extended her claws to get the job done.

"January," I deadpanned. I'd counted several times since I'd come to this world. I knew it by heart at this point.

"Oh, thank goodness. I'll make it in time." She dropped her long, tense tail with a flop of relief.

"Make it in time for what?"

"Yuna's baby. It's in her tummy right now. I wanted to be there when she gave birth."

I nodded with approval. "Good for you."

Her tail wiggled like jelly as she collected her excessive array of toys.

"Let's go look at the bulletin board in the hallway," I suggested, already making my way over.

"Good idea. We need to look for work."

"Yeah. We've got to pay our own way for food and housing and all."

Room and board wasn't a real worry in this world. We could find stability fairly easily. But if we wanted to eat the tastiest treats or play with the best toys out here, we needed to make our own living.

"You're lucky you're a black cat," I told Natsuki, glancing at the board. "Black cats are in high demand. Look."

I leaped up on my hind legs so that my front paws landed on one particular flyer: a help wanted notice.

"Wow, you're right. A lot of these jobs are limited to black cats," she replied, squeezing her bird plushie. Black cats were popular choices for café mascots, picture book characters, movie appearances, and other various visually related jobs.

"Not to mention you'll get busier once summer is over," I added.

Natsuki looked confused. "Why's that?"

"You'll be helping with Halloween."

"Like those cats that ride on broomsticks?" Her ears pricked. "I'd love to be like them!"

I tore my gaze away from Natsuki's giant ears-which might've been bigger than her face-and looked back to the bulletin board. Another flyer stood out to me.

Seeking one working cat. Any sex, species, and coat color welcome.

"I can apply for this one. What's the pay . . ." I ran my eyes over the specific conditions. "This could work."

I nodded to myself then looked at Natsuki. A flyer for a broom-riding job with a witch had already captured her interest. The image of her astride a broom-timid with that bird plushie in her mouth-made me want to burst into laughter, but her motivation was genuine. I had to keep up with her.

"Well then, see you later," I said, turning to leave. But before we completely parted ways, I called over my shoulder, "By the way, the fifth tenet is this: Live every day to the fullest."

Natsuki's eyes widened, sparkling as she watched me. "Isn't that interesting! You pretended you were sleeping, but you really did listen to the lecturer, Fuuta."

"Well, obviously." I sensed a twitch through my whiskers, and raised my orange tabby tail high. "Anyway, don't work too hard. Pace yourself."

"Yes. We'll live each day to the fullest." She nodded with enthusiasm.

3

"Up two hills, then down one before entering the third intersection," I recited to myself as I walked to the job site, trying to recall the map on the recruitment flyer. This world was loaded with hillside roads. If there were stairs, I'd be able to leap my way up, but all these gradual inclines really wore a cat down.

It'd be a breeze for Michiru's electric bicycle.

Supposedly cats that liked to go places-like me-were rare. Michiru had always put me in a special black carrier and attached me to the basket on her handlebars, where I could enjoy the cool breeze on my face. Every season had its perks. In the spring, the air would be sweet, carrying the strong scent of flowers. In the summer, it would be rich with the smell of warm grass. And in the fall, nature's bright yellow and red leaves would fly around us, flaunting their own kind of beauty. Any cat was bound to become addicted to such outings after experiencing all that just once.

But winter? Well, obviously no cat in their right mind would go out on a cold day for fun. Winter days were meant for curling up in front of the heater. That was just common sense.

I must've been deep in thought because a nostalgic scent tickled my nostrils. It smelled like the riverside where Michiru would go cycling. The memory made my vision turn blurry. I swiped my face with my paw.

"Is there a river around here?" I said out loud, stopping to glance at my surroundings, then tilting my head. "Odd. Maybe I was wrong."

I'd passed through two intersections already, but I didn't see a third. Another hill waited ahead of me, but I was certain there'd been a third cross street on that map . . . Not that I'd ever had the best memory.

I went back to the second intersection and loitered around the area. Whiskers came in handy during times like these. They could accurately determine my location and sense even the slightest presence.

A long whisker on my right cheek quivered.

"This way?"

It was no wonder I hadn't noticed it before. Past the corner of the second street was a narrow alleyway just wide enough for a single cat. With my perfect figure, I slipped right through.

"Good thing I didn't eat too many treats," I said to myself, with an internal sigh of relief.

I'd always begged Michiru for my favorite liquid treat, but she'd refuse and tell me I'd only get fat. I'd throw my tantrums, of course, but thanks to her, I stayed in excellent shape. I silently thanked Michiru as I made my way through the alley, which suddenly opened up into a vast space.

"What is this place?" I wondered aloud.

I recalled memories of the park where the neighborhood cats would gather for meetings. It had a slide, two swings, and a sandbox just big enough to fit three kids. Cherry blossom trees would grow between the playground equipment, and when spring came around, the flowers would bloom simultaneously, making the trees look like cotton candy. We cats would use the space at the park's entrance, beneath the treetops, as our meeting spot. Of course, it became harder to attend as I got older, but I was sure they still held meetings there to this day.

This area was about the same size as that park, but in the corner stood an isolated white house. The clearing ended in a sudden decline, where many more houses and cars sat below.

Which world was I standing in right now? This world? Or that world? I practically felt my eyes twinkle at the sight of it all. At the same time, from where I stood, the land of the living looked so transient.

Only now that I was here did I realize how temporary it really was.

4

A triangular roof topped the white house, and latticed windows graced the face of it on either side of the front door. It could've been plucked straight from a picture book.

As I approached, I noticed a signboard in front. It was an oblong plaque of white-painted plywood, nailed into a wooden post that seemed to sprout from the ground. In the plaque's center, painted in light gray letters, was the business's name: café pont.

"This is the place."

As impressed as I was with my memory and sharp instincts, I had my next steps to think about. The door looked heavy, and required a turned handle to open. If it had been a sliding door, I could've used my claws to drag it open, but doors like this one weren't very cat friendly. It wasn't like I could jump up and turn the handle midair.

My ears perked up in attention, trying to glean some information about what was happening inside. My ears were extremely reliable. Cats had hearing several times better than humans.

But all I could hear inside was the occasional clink and clang of tableware, and no human voices. From what I could sense, there was only one person inside. I glanced around me, but no one was outside, either. I could wait for a bit, but it didn't seem like anyone would be entering the café anytime soon.

Oh well. I supposed I could try crying.

"Meow." At first I tried a quiet one. Then another one. Then I opened my mouth as wide as it would stretch and put every bit of effort into it. "Meow!"

A clunk sounded inside the café. As I wondered what it was, the door opened with a creak. A woman in a white dress stuck her head out. She looked older than Michiru, but younger than Mama. She must've been thirty or forty years old. She glanced around, the long braid down her back wagging like a dog's tail, finally noticing me when she peered at the ground.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. Our eyes met and she beamed.

Us cats could understand human words, but we didn't have the easiest time translating our language to them. I tried, anyway.

"I saw your help-wanted flyer," I started.

My words must've been crystal clear because she replied easily.

"A newbie, huh? Come on in," she said with a welcoming gesture.

I followed her in, surveilling the inside and wondering what exactly this person could possibly be, if she understood me so easily.

"Oh dear. Do you think I'm some sort of ghost?" she asked. "I'm not a ghost, nor any other monstrous thing, for that matter. I'm a real-life human, through and through. Look." She lifted the hem of her long dress and exposed her feet. "See? I have legs."

"But how?" I asked.

"You mean, how do I understand you? I act as an intermediary between this world and that world. If I couldn't speak to the cats who work with me, then we'd never get anything done," she answered with a shrug.

"Which world does this café exist in?" I asked.

"This world, that world . . . it's one of those things. From that world's perspective, it's that . . . Argh! I'm confusing myself." She gripped her braided hair and contorted her face in frustration. "We mostly operate on one side. To put it more simply, we operate in the living world's present day. Our customers come from there."