"The time has come, I suppose... to cast a net into the world."

  ?The Korokan—the Mansion of the Tiger-Lock—was a place where time seemed to stall, yet hands were always few. Who could possibly serve as an aide to a Tiger-model automaton? Driven by a mix of desperation and whimsy, the Doctor plastered a makeshift "Help Wanted" sign onto the corrugated wall of a weathered shed.

  ?Wage: 500 Yen per hour. It wasn’t a serious offer; it was a cynical joke, a piece of local folklore designed to be whispered about by the neighborhood children.

  ?"Byakko," the Doctor murmured, staring at the mechanical marvel, "you’re lucky. You have all the time in the world."

  "And you, Doctor? How much time do you require?"

  "I promised a friend I’d see two hundred. Hah!"

  "Then," Byakko replied, his voice a low hum, "that is far too short."

  ?Does he not feel it? the Doctor wondered. The cold shadow of being the one who remains?

  ?Heavy with the lethargy of a midday meal, the Doctor let their eyelids fall.

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  ?—The Awakening—

  ?"Byakko...?"

  ?The world had shifted. Twilight had descended, transforming the mansion from a static postcard into a living, breathing realm of fire. The walls of the Korokan drank in the orange glow, vibrating with the light they had inhaled at dawn. In the garden, the pond became a liquid mirror, dissolving the scarlet clouds into its depths, while the trees stood like silhouettes seeing off the dying sun.

  ?The sweltering heat had broken. From beyond the gates, the rhythmic patter of children’s feet heading home rose and fell. Some dreamt of the stadium lights and the roar of a night-game; others sought the sanctuary of four walls.

  ?But the Doctor’s "child" was nowhere to be found.

  ?"Byakko! Curfew has passed! Show yourself!"

  ?The weekend’s peace had shattered into a frantic search. The Doctor waded through the raspberry briars, the blueberry thickets, and the shadows of the loquat trees, even venturing into the jagged silence of the cactus garden. Nothing.

  ?An hour passed before the silence broke.

  ?He didn't return alone.

  ?Byakko emerged from the gloaming, accompanied by a human figure. The Doctor’s heart lunged into their throat.

  (Whose child is this? How did they pierce the veil of his solitude?)

  ?The guest was striking—and strange. A fox mask hid their features, the painted eyes gleaming in the fading light. A terrifying thought struck the Doctor: Byakko hadn't been spirited away by a fox... he had hunted a fox-spirit and brought it home.

  ?Before the Doctor could find their voice to scold the "kidnapper," the stranger bowed with a grace that felt ancient.

  ?"Greetings. I am Clamo," the young man said, his voice steady beneath the mask. "I have come to see Mr. Tora-emon in person... regarding the advertisement."

  ?