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Baba grabbed Haoran-kun’s hand and sprinted through the sleeping city. They slipped between stacks of beer crates in the back alleys and dashed through a shuttered, fish-smelling market.
Even after all that running, Baba—whose physical ability far surpassed any human—didn’t lose her breath once. Haoran-kun, powered up by Oyabun’s blood serum, managed to keep up for a few minutes, but as the effect wore off, his pace began to falter.
Seeing his steps slow, Baba eased up near the outskirts of town and ducked into a late-night Chinese restaurant.

The moment they entered, Haoran-kun shrank back under the attention of the owner and three customers.
The owner had a large burn scar on his cheek, and the three customers sported overgrown beards, tattooed arms, and less-than-friendly expressions.

“Clear out.”

Baba took off her sunglasses for an instant as she spoke. At once, everyone fell silent, faces stiffening with solemn respect.
The customers offered a bow of clasped hands and quickly left. The owner flipped the sign to “Closed,” locked the door, and disappeared inside.
Haoran-kun gaped at the silver-haired little girl sitting so calmly at the table. To see such a fragile-looking child command a group of shady, gangster-looking men with a single word—she must have seemed like something bottomless, unfathomable.

This restaurant was run by relatives of the Tsukimori syndicate, and thus highly accommodating. For all of Tsukimori’s affiliated groups, Tsukuyomi was both an object of awe and reverence. Her face and name were well-known, and unless the request was truly absurd, Tsukuyomi’s will always came first.
At Baba’s urging, Haoran-kun sat nervously across the table and hesitantly asked:

“Kid… no, miss, who exactly are you?”
“My name is Lonalia Linalia Baba-nyan. Please, call me Baba—it makes me happy. Oh, no need to be so formal.”

Baba received tea from the owner and spoke casually. The owner bowed once more and went upstairs to his living quarters. Now, the only ones left in the shop were: Baba and Haoran-kun at the table, Tai-yi still dazed in Baba’s pouch, and me—hiding behind the counter, crouched with my knees to my chest, suppressing my presence and eavesdropping.

Baba introduced me here to work undercover, posing as a clueless new part-timer. The manager had given me the “you’re one weird idiot” look, but whatever.
Sure, I could have used telekinetic clairvoyance to watch from afar—but it’s not the same.
Being on-site gives that feeling…like watching a live performance… you know? Heh heh.

“Well then, the night may be long, but time is short. I’d like to explain what situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Is that all right?”
“Does it have to do with the Invisible Titan?”

Haoran-kun fidgeted with his teacup as he asked something. I couldn’t understand Chinese, but I caught “Invisible Titan.” When people hear of anything supernatural, their first thought is always “Invisible Titan.” It’s practically a household name now.
Baba smiled.

“Sharp lad. Let’s say you’re half right. I am an agent of the psychic secret organization known as Tsukuyomi. We work to bring peaceful order to the underworld through psychic means. The Invisible Titan belongs to a different psychic organization.”
“A different… organization?”
“Indeed. Most psychics hidden among humanity are united under one group or another. And these secret organizations are not few.”
“I—I see…”

Haoran-kun nodded repeatedly, seemingly convinced.

Uh-huh! I have no idea what they’re saying. I had a Chinese–Japanese auto-translate app running on my phone, but since the counter blocks the mic, it’s not picking up anything.
Rookie mistake!
The only Chinese I know are ni hao and xie xie. I’m completely lost here.

“The question is—why do psychics band together? Ever thought about it? ‘If I had telekinesis, I’d do this.’ ‘If I could teleport, I’d do that.’ You think psychic powers can free you from boring society’s chains, let you soar freely, don’t you?”
“…Are you reading my mind?”
“Heh. No. I merely listed the universal desires that every youth entertains at least once. Tsukuyomi does have some members with mind-reading abilities, but that’s beside the point. The reason psychics unite is simple—they must, or they won’t survive. Even with powers beyond the ordinary, one cannot escape the darkness of this world—the World Shadow. Without training and unity, they’re doomed. You saw it earlier, did you not? That was the Shadow that preys on humankind. They hunt psychics in particular, devouring them to grow stronger. And the reason I’m telling you this is one—because when I found you being attacked by that Shadow, I knew at once that you were a psy—”
“—Meow!? Fff! Mrreewwwww!”

Baba’s triumphant speech was suddenly cut off by a protest from her waist pouch.
Tai-yi, who’d been half-conscious until now, woke up in a panic, leapt out of the pouch, and landed on the table.
Dazed, she scanned her surroundings frantically—she might’ve even glanced my way behind the counter—but decided the immediate threat was the foreigner in front of her. She crouched low, tail bristling, rear raised, fangs bared, hissing at Baba.

“Oh? What’s the matter? Nyaan, nya, nyrraawww, nya~n.”
“!?”

Haoran-kun’s eyes bulged as Baba suddenly started speaking fluent cat.
Ah, first time hearing a cat-language speaker, Haoran-kun? Well, in the 21st century, multilingualism is an essential skill for any global citizen.
Baba’s talent for language acquisition was so great she could dub entire movies into Nyan-nese. Though she looked human, her tongue and hearing were structured differently than that of h̲o̲m̲o̲ sapiens. She could understand and reproduce true feline speech.
She claimed she learned it by attending neighborhood cat meetings.
Tai-yi’s golden eyes went wide in shock.

“Meow? Meow mew, mrreew… meow.”
“Nya~o, nnao~u. Nyaa.”
“Meow~.”

And thus began the nyan-nyan conversation. The girls meowed back and forth while the boy was completely left behind.
Chinese or cat—it made no difference to me; I couldn’t understand either. Multiply “don’t understand” by “don’t understand” and you still get “don’t understand.”
The sight of a little girl and a cat chatting in “nyan” might’ve been adorable,
but for me, it was nothing new. There was that one time Shiori sent me hundreds of videos of Baba with cat ears and a tail, chatting with neighborhood cats. I’ve seen enough to last a lifetime.

After a while, the nyan-nyan exchange between Baba and Tai-yi seemed to reach a conclusion. Baba stood, frowning thoughtfully. She motioned for Haoran-kun to stay seated, then gestured discreetly at me—out of their line of sight—and headed for the back door.
I crawled along the floor, stealthily following her out.

As soon as I slipped through, Baba shut the door behind us and whispered, barely able to contain her excitement:

“I’ve changed my mind after talking with her. I now believe Tai-yi, not Haoran-kun, is more suitable to be Tsukuyomi’s branch leader, nyan.”
“Are you out of your Cat-damn mind?!”