I was running late. Of course, I was running late.

Sure, I’d been warned: Tokyo was known as the city that never sleeps. But I still hadn’t expected the streets of Shibuya to be quite this busy at night. It wasn’t like my media consumption could have warned me, or anything. Oh wait. It had. But apparently, I had chosen to selectively forget that fact. Couldn’t claim I was a fan. Crowds had always made me uncomfortable.

Weaving my way through the rumbling crowds as quickly as I could manage, I marveled at the hundreds of loud neon signs glaring their bright, harsh light down on us, drowning out even the faintest glimpse of a star. It didn’t even feel like night.

Back home, a single glance up in the sky would have revealed the breathtaking sight of the entire milky way. It would have been quieter, calmer. Warmer, too. But I’d left Brazil behind for good and lived here now, in Japan. With my dad gone, both places felt equally lonely, regardless of how many people filled the streets.

For the hundredth time this evening I questioned my decision to leave my apartment and replace its calm and quiet with the loud yells and cajoling of crowds filled with people eager to get drunk—or already halfway there. Why did I do this to myself? These work drinks had better be worth it.

The get-together wasn’t mandatory and truthfully, I didn’t really want to go, which, incidentally, was probably why I was running late, but my new colleagues had set up these drinks specifically to welcome me to the team. We’d waited a few weeks until the first rush of deadlines had passed to do this, so it wasn’t like I was meeting any of them for the first time, but still. It was about decorum and establishing friendly relations with my colleagues.

My hurried step never wavered, though it was becoming more difficult to force my way through the ever-moving throng of bodies. Edging my way sideways, I finally found a niche by a storefront to pause and catch my breath. I caught my reflection in the window front, and grimaced. Rushing and the discomfort of being around crowds was already making me sweaty and my straight black hair was beginning to stick to the sides of my face, even flatter than it normally was. My outfit wasn’t exactly made for this place either. I was just glad I’d opted to wear my green flats matching my purse instead of heels. I’d hate to navigate these crowds while having to worry about my balance on top of it.

There were busy streets and then there was this insanity. Not even London had been this bad. Who in the world would voluntarily come out into these crowds, night or day? If I hadn’t made a commitment, I’d already be on my way back home. Then again, I considered as I hastened my step, dodging strangers with every second breath, the faster I moved, the quicker I could get away from these faceless masses and sit down with a cool drink instead.

My determination to make it to the work drinks posthaste almost prevented me noticing a swift, orange blur on the edge of my vision.

What was that?

Startled, I missed my next step and stumbled, trying to stop myself from kicking whatever had just fallen or jumped in front of my feet. I just about managed to catch myself, my hands already stretched out in front of me to catch my potential fall.

Almost touching my toes was a cat, tail and fur raised in frozen surprise, staring back at me.  

What it was doing in a place as crowded and busy as this I couldn’t fathom, but I didn’t see a collar on its neck either.

The cat regained its composure first, fur settling and tail twitching happily as it slid around my legs in a number eight, before veering off and disappearing into the crowd.

My arms slowly dropped to my side, and I straightened my back watching it go unnoticed by anyone else.

Amazing.

It managed to skillfully avoid all these feet completely unfazed, making me jealous.

Staring into the crowd in hopes of seeing where the cat was headed, I set myself in motion again as well. Even walking along the storefronts, I was quickly becoming an expert at dodging other people who unexpectedly stepped into my way. Stopped by a red light at the next crossroads, I glanced over the faces in the crowds. Some were already drunk, gently swaying from side to side. Others looked stressed, saddled with an array of shopping bags and still dressed in their work attire. There were those like me, who were out for leisure. One of the buildings on the opposite side of the street sported a large, glowing, digital clock between the windows of its second story which informed me that I was already running ten minutes late. I figured I had another five to ten minutes to go. I really ought to pick up my pace again. In Brazil this would be considered being early, but I had the feeling that even being fashionably late wasn’t necessarily seen favorably here.

The lights turned green and in unison, every person entered the street at the same time. Only one small body stood out, bounding ahead of everyone else and disappearing into the crowd on the opposite side. The cat.

I could have resisted my curiosity.

I could have listened to common sense and gone to my get-together so I wouldn’t be even later than I already was.

I could have chosen to not follow the cat.

But… I needed to know where it was headed.

My burning desire to know its destination took a hold of my nervous system and my feet changed direction without a single thought on my part. My colleagues would just have to wait a little longer.

I caught up to the cat at the entrance to a small alleyway between some larger buildings, the kind that seemed to disappear when you weren’t thinking about it. I must have passed a number of these already, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember seeing any of them.

The cat was sitting in the middle of the lane, tail curled around its base like a small guardian statue, watching me approach. Its amber eyes were pinned to me as I pushed through the crowds, almost as if it was inviting me, no, willing me to approach. And so I did.

Once I’d left the throng of party-people and reached the alley’s entryway, the cat unfurled and gently snaked through my legs before stalking further down into the stillness of the alley lined only by some bins.

Any survival instincts that I might have developed over the years must have been temporarily taken out of commission. I didn’t even think twice about following. Leaving the safety of the lights and the crowds for a moment to pet a cat just felt right.

About halfway down the alley, the cat turned to me again, and I knelt to the ground, beckoning it closer.

“Pspspsps.”

Someone somewhere had once told me that cats didn’t particularly enjoy that sound, but this one didn’t hesitate. Within seconds I felt its soft fur and vibrating pleasure underneath my hands. As I rubbed its ears, the cat nuzzled into my hand, before, to my great delight, attempting to climb onto my lap.

Out of nowhere, it stood alert, one paw on my leg, ears perked, tail under tension as it looked up. Acknowledging its unease, I turned my gaze upward, hand still on the cat’s slowly bristling furry back.

What the…?

About a dozen shadows briefly disturbed the darkness above, seemingly moving from one building to another at high speeds. Instead of wondering about them, my attention was captured by a bright light rapidly falling toward us. Instinctively, I pushed the yowling cat aside, right before I was struck by the large, bowling-ball sized orb of light and searing pain exploded in my brain.

When I woke up, I knew five things.

One—My head was hurting so badly; it must have fallen victim to a jackhammer.

Two—A cat was sitting on my chest, curiously peering into my face.

Three—I would have killed for some water.

Four—I was never going to get used to Tokyo’s nightlife.

Five—I had absolutely no idea where I was.

Bemused, I stroked the purring cat’s head twice before gently pushing the feline off me and sat up on the futon, dropping the blanket covering me. The room was unfamiliar to me, though it looked it might be found at a traditional Japanese inn, or a country mansion. Certainly not like a Tokyo apartment. And definitely not my Tokyo apartment. Aside from my bedding, the décor was sparse, including no more than a small, empty shelf, and a low table with my green purse. The room had no windows, but the paper sliding door felt like a promising lead to more information about my current situation.

The back of my head was throbbing with every beat of my heart, and I tentatively raised my hand to it. How much had I had to drink last night? I’d planned on just having one or two cups of sake with my new colleagues, but I couldn’t even remember meeting up with them. Most of my night was completely shrouded in mystery.

My fingers brushed against a bandage wrapped around my head, and I winced at the burning sting the light touch incited on my forehead.

The mystery deepens.

Not only had I apparently gotten so horrendously drunk that I’d blacked out and stayed at a stranger’s place overnight, I must have also fallen and hit my head. This was getting worse by the second. I hadn’t been that drunk since Carnaval three years ago. There was a reason I usually kept my distance from alcohol.

The cat stepped onto my legs with its front paws, looking up at me. “Prrrrbt?”

Absent-mindedly, I petted it. How odd. Out of everything in this nebulous situation, the cat seemed the most familiar. I felt certain that I’d seen it before. The orange fur and amber eyes were tugging at something in my memory.

Something about last night.

A memory peeled itself from the mist in my mind. I did know this kitty. In fact, I had seen it when I’d been on my way to meet up with my co-workers. I’d followed it into the alley, I had petted it and then…

Then nothing.

That was the last thing I remembered.

Frowning, I looked around again.

Surely, there had to be some kind of sign or clue about where I was, what had happened last night, and how I’d gotten here. And why the cat I’d encountered in the middle of the night in Shibuya was here with me.

I peered down at it again. Could I be sure it was the same cat? How many cats in and around Tokyo looked like that? 

This contemplation wasn’t getting me any further. Time to act and find out what was going on.

I reached over to my bag and took out my phone, hoping to check my messages for any clue about last night, but instead found that it was dead.

Nothing for it, then.

Determined, I got to my feet, decidedly ignoring the rush of dizziness and queasiness that arose with the movement. I needed to talk to whoever owned this place, if only to thank them for letting me stay, or pay them if it was an inn. I was still wearing my dress from last night, but I couldn’t see my shoes anywhere.

I stumbled towards the paper sliding door and leaned against the wooden frame for a moment, collecting my breath and energy.

Then, I slid it open, just a crack, to peek outside. What I saw was a wooden hallway opening into a large traditional garden, complete with pond, shishi-odoshi, and rock garden. Beyond it, a luscious green forest stretched out as far as I could see, though at first glance I didn’t recognize the plants. They looked exotic somehow. Unfamiliar. Which was odd, considering I had lived on three different continents and had studied biology.

But I wasn’t able to marvel at the flora for long because something else took hold of my attention.

Almost as though it glowed like a star in the night, a slender, bright figure appeared between the shadows of the trees, sure in its movements, trotting straight toward the garden and the house. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the fox. It was silver in color, almost white, and its fur seemed so fluffy and silky that it appeared ethereal. Its tail twitched, making it look like it was actually split into two for just a moment.

Slowly, silently, I sunk down to my knees, eyes trained on the fox, so as not to lose sight of it. My heart was pounding, and I was working hard to keep my breath quiet and normal.

I’d only ever seen a wild fox once before, when I’d lived in London, but that had been at night and a very ordinary red fox. This one seemed to belong to a completely different species. Despite its coloration, it had nothing in common with an arctic fox, the general shape instead resembling the common genus of V. Vulpes, if a little larger.

It crossed the garden easily and jumped up onto the ledge of the hallway—smoothly transforming into a young man with short, white hair, wearing jeans and a dark-red t-shirt.

What?

I could barely stifle a yelp of surprise, even though I hadn’t fully registered what had happened. Where had the fox gone? Where had that man come from? And more importantly, who was he? And what?

As if he’d heard my scrambled thoughts, he glanced my way, and our eyes locked for a moment. His expression cycled quickly from surprise, to shock, to anger. He turned on the spot, crossed the distance between us, and threw the paper door open.

I scrambled backward, trying to escape his reach, but he was towering over me with two long strides.

“Did you see?” he asked, his lips pressed together, and his green eyes filled with what I could only assume was mildly suppressed fury.

I couldn’t think of anything to say. The words had gone, leaving nothing more than a void in my mind as I stared up at him, frozen in place.

Though my body was still, my instincts were not.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—I had to get away. Now.

Basic survival instincts overruled my fear, but he was still blocking my path. I scrambled to my feet, my bare legs shaking on the tatami mats. I didn’t even dare to blink.

“Did you see?” he repeated more pressingly, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, and took another step toward me.

I wanted to say no, I wanted to say I didn’t know what he was talking about, but what came from my lips was something different. “You’re a fox!”

He froze.

I used the opening to dash past him, jumping out into the garden and running into the forest, ignoring the pain of every tiny little sharp rock stinging my bare feet. A moment later, I could hear the sounds of him chasing me.

“Hey, wait!”

His words only spurred me on.

I ran as fast as I could—faster than I’d ever run before, disregarding the pain in my feet or arms and legs as they were caught by branches and thorns. It was hilly terrain, and there was no path to follow, but I jumped, crouched, and climbed across every obstacle I came across to try to get away from that creature, that angry creature.

Unable to focus on anything else, I kept running. It really shouldn’t have surprised me when I finally lost my footing and went tumbling forward.