Kane shifted uncomfortably under the tailor's scrutinizing gaze. The man circled him slowly, measuring tape dangling from gnarled fingers.
"White fox spirit," Mr. Hoshino murmured, his voice like rustling paper.
"Slender build. Active lifestyle."
Kane flicked his ears in surprise. "You can tell I'm a spirit?"
"My family has served the spirit community for generations." Mr. Hoshino replied, his weathered face crinkling with amusement.
The elderly tailor gestured to the walls of his small shop, where photographs showed him fitting various beings—some clearly not human despite their attempts at disguise.
"Mr. Drakhal has been a valued customer for decades," Mr. Hoshino continued, measuring Kane's inseam.
Mr. Hoshino stepped back, squinting at Kane thoughtfully.
"For you, I recommend a light muted blue. It will complement your coloring while maintaining professional dignity." He gestured toward several fabric swatches laid out on a nearby table.
