Neko flicked her tail. “Don’t thank me. Thank the glitch in the cosmic source code.” She melted back into her cat form, landed on the wet pavement, and yawned. “Now scram. Some of us have alleys to patrol.”

Maybe version 0094 wasn’t a mistake.

The boy took a bite. His tears dried into salt crystals that turned into marbles for other lonely children to find.

But as the boy ran home, clutching his perfect taiyaki, Neko allowed herself one small purr.

High above, a holographic error message spun in the clouds. Status: DEPLOYED Host: [ERROR: SPECIES MISMATCH] Activation Phrase: “Umai.” (Note: colloquial for ‘delicious/yummy’) Neko yawned, revealing a tiny fang. She remembered the old days. Version 0001 had been a radiant blonde girl with a talking tiara. Version 0042 had been a melancholic violinist. But after ninety-three reboots, the divine server had gotten… sloppy.

A ribbon of starlight coiled around her matted fur. The cardboard box became a lacquered carriage of walnut and dreams. Her collar, a rusty bell, unfurled into a crescent moon scepter. And Neko—scruffy, weary, four-pound Neko—rose on two legs.

Magical Angel Fairy Princess -v0094- -Umai Neko-

Neko’s left ear twitched. A spark. A chime like a broken music box.