In a corner of the room, hung just high enough on the wall that it misses the slanting shafts of sunlight filtering into the room, is a clock. Its shape is uneven; the wood has no embellishment. No numbers mar its smooth surface. And yet—
Yosuke Kajiya glances up at it, glances down at similar pieces of wood scattered around his workshop, and knows that time is passing, that it will always tick on.