“The Form is a box of silicon and copper. The Regret is the time you’ve spent staring into the glow, waiting for a life to start.”

The room grew cold. The smell of old incense and ozone filled the air. On the screen, the static of the "missing" video began to take shape. It wasn't a cartoon. It was a live feed of Kaito’s own room, rendered in the jagged, psychedelic colors of the show.

Kaito looked down at his hands. They were beautiful, textured like handmade washi paper, and slowly beginning to drift away into the wind.

In the reflection of the monitor, he saw the Medicine Seller standing in the corner of his bedroom. The figure’s golden scales were tipped, vibrating with a frantic, metallic ring.