Doraemon -1979- Official

He reaches in. His paw disappears up to the shoulder. The sound is a soft shuffling —like a hand in a bag of rice. He pulls out a small, bamboo-copter.

A slow pan across a quiet Tokyo suburb. The sky is a soft, watercolor orange of a late 1970s autumn evening. Cicadas buzz, a sound as constant as breathing. Doraemon -1979-

“Doraemon?”

The drawer slides open.