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When a Way opens to a new house, Snowball is always the first cat to go through. He's played with many red balls, sat in countless yards where the wind blows through grasses.
After he checks out a new house, he goes back to the other cats and tells them about it. By now, they wait for Snowball to check out a new Way first, since they know he will tell them if it's worth going to. He will let them know if the person who lives in the house is kind, if they will give the cats food and toys in exchange for metal fish and mementos.
Snowball likes to share the news with the other cats; he likes to tell them the new places to go to, since it makes him happy to see humans and cats together. Still, there is one place that Snowball keeps to himself.
Near one of the Ways, there is a cafe. It is not a house that looks like a cafe, but a real cafe. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, and people come in through the day to buy coffee and stare at their laptops and their books.
Snowball is a mellow cat. He does not sit on the customer's laptops, beg for their food, or knock their coffee of the table. As a result, the employees let him stay and sneak him pieces of pastrami at lunchtime. Snowball knows many other cafes and restaurants in many different places, but this one is his favorite. This one is his.
At the cafe, Snowball plays with the paper bags and cardboard boxes left over from the morning's deliveries. He watches the people in the cafe, and they watch him. There are always a few who come to stare at their shiny laptop screens and end up watching him instead. Sometimes, they beckon to him, and he saunters over with his tail held high to let them scratch him.
The employees set up a corner in the cafe just for him, with a fluffy bed and a bunny kicktoy and a blue rubber ball. They make him a little flower collar, and every once in a while he even lets them put it on him. Among the employees and the customers, Snowball finds many with potential. They are cat people: they are the kind of people who would set out goodies and treats in their yards. Maybe one day a Way will open to their house, and the cats will be able to go play at that house as well.
If that happens, Snowball will be the first cat there.
The house behind this Way is old and abandoned, with peeling paint and a rotted, fallen-over fence. The lawn piles high with leaves—not with the intentional piles that tempt a cat to leap into them, but rotting, yellowing leaves that speak of a yard unloved and untended.
Shadow is the first cat to come here for a long time. He leaps in through a broken window and enters a dark room that smells of dust and mold. As he pads through the room, rivulets of copper-scented blood begin to seep from the walls. An eerie moan starts from elsewhere in the house, and the furniture rattles to and fro. Shadow's tail shoots straight up in excitement. It's all very odd, and Shadow likes odd things.
He trots through a door that's left ajar, heading for the source of the moan. Inside the hall, he finds a girl floating in the air. Her body is gray and scentless, and Shadow can see the walls through her body.
"You're a cat," she says puzzledly.
The hall falls silent and the air grows warm. The blood recedes back into the walls. The girl floats down toward him, and Shadow gives her a friendly nose-bump on the leg. Or at least, he tries—his head goes right through her. He tries to bump her again and the same thing happens.
With a delighted purr, Shadow flops onto his belly. She gives a dry laugh, and then she puts her arm forward, brushing her hand atop his head. He can't feel her hand, and in fact, the air doesn't even move. Shadow bats his paws through her hand playfully. Her laugh becomes a giggle, and she flicks her fingers at him; he pretends that he's trying to catch them, the way he would catch the shinies on a butterfly swarm.
After they're done playing, they explore the house, walking through the dusty, cobwebbed rooms full of old paintings and worn furniture. Shadow leaps curiously onto the moth-eaten cushions, sniffs at the fireplace, and finally stuffs himself into a glass vase. The vase rocks precariously, then steadies as if someone grabs a hold of it. The girl frowns at him.
"Be careful!" she scolds, but Shadow doesn't pay her any mind. He knows that she won't let him fall.
After a few hours, his stomach rumbles. He heads towards the door and the girl's smile fades.
"Goodbye," she says.
Turning back, Shadow sees a forlorn look on her face. His tail curling, he purrs to let her know that he'll return. She still seems surprised the next day, though, when she finds him in the living room.
"You came back," she says. The look on her face is too complicated for Shadow to understand.
Over the next few visits, she plumps up the moth-eaten pillows for him and drags a treasure box out from the attic for him to sit in. She cleans the yard, making a pile of soft, dry leaves for him to play in and emptying an old planter for him so that he can sleep inside sun-warmed terracotta.
One day, Shadow pushes a box of Thrifty Bits cans into the house. He meows at her, loud and insistent, until she opens the can and sets out the food in a dish in the yard. The cats come, the way they always do. They eat the Thrifty Bits and hog the goodies that used to be just Shadow's, but Shadow doesn't mind. The house is less lonely with the cats around, and the girl is less lonely too.
It is summer now, and the cicada are shrugging their way out of their skins. Shadow plans to give his girl a gift. He will go to the park and look for the most perfect golden cicada shell he can find. Holding his tail high, he will give it to her. It will be a good gift, because the cicada shell is a body without a soul, just like his girl is a soul without a body. When he gives it to her, she will understand: it is better to be a soul without a body than a body without a soul.
Then they will go lie on the cushions and he will sit inside of her stomach in the mid-afternoon. The sun will shine on him and warm his fur, and it will be like she is petting him: it will be like the sun is warming her too.
Beneath the cover of night, Whiteshadow leaps from tree to tree, his footfall silent and his ears alert for the sound of enemy spies. It won't do to lead an enemy to the house where he is going. Once he is certain that the area is secure, he makes a final leap to a window looking into the living room of a house. Whiteshadow gives the secret knock, and the window slides up.
A child's face beams at him. "Hi, kitty!" she says. "You're back!"
As if Whiteshadow would ever miss a meeting of such importance.
He steps inside. More children sit on the couch, in front of the flatscreen TV. Spotting Whiteshadow, they set one of the pillows flat onto the couch. Whiteshadow leaps onto the pillow. Since he's among friends, he pulls down his mask, enjoying the feel of the air currents against his whiskers.
All of those children are shinobi-in-training. Though they are not yet practiced in ninjutsu, the bonds of their friendship are strong, as is their dedication to their training. Every Saturday, they gather before the TV, learning lessons from the great ninja. Afterwards, they run through training scenarios with each other, narrating what they would do when they go on a mission. They do admittedly seem to assume that their future selves will have unrealistic powers (and new names, and extremely colorful hair), but at least they've already learned the importance of preparation and planning.
One of the children presses buttons on the remote control, and the first chords of the opening song begins to play. An orange-suited ninja stands atop a cliff, gazing into the distance with a lonely yet resolute expression. The children grow quiet, and Whiteshadow's ears prick forward. He watches raptly; though he is exhausted from a long day of scouting, the sights and sounds emanating from the box refreshes his body. This, after all, is the story of the great ninja who inspired Whiteshadow to walk down the path of the shinobi. Together with the children, Whiteshadow immerses himself once again in the legendary tale of Uzumaki Naruto.
When this part of the saga draws to a close, the TV grows dark and silent once more. While the children talk about the shinobi they will become, Whiteshadow pulls out colorful squares of paper and begins to fold. Each piece of paper becomes a finely folded paper shuriken. The children stop to watch him in surprise. He does not look up at them until he is done folding.
Whiteshadow gives a shuriken to each child. They are far enough in their training now—it's time they started carrying weapons.