Kaito nodded, his expression calm and attentive. “That makes sense. The body can cope with stress for a while, but emotional fatigue doesn’t always follow the same rules as physical exhaustion. It can linger, even when everything around you seems… normal.”

Haru noticed how still Kaito sat while listening. Even the loose strands escaping his ponytail never seemed to pull his attention away.“So… this isn’t uncommon for someone like me?”

“Not at all,” Kaito said. “Many specialists, surgeons included, face similar pressures. High responsibility, long hours, life-and-death decisions every day. It’s natural for that to eventually take a toll.”

Haru exhaled slowly, a tight line softening around his mouth. “I thought I was supposed to be the one keeping everyone else steady. Patients, teams… I never imagined I’d feel like I was falling behind my own life.”

“That’s part of why you’re here,” Kaito replied gently. “You don’t have to earn help by completely falling apart first.”

Haru leaned back, letting the words sink in. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Kaito simply waited, pen resting loosely in his hand, like he wasn’t in a hurry to pull answers out of him. For someone like Haru so used to control every details in the operating room, that in itself was… unusual.

Kaito tilted his head slightly, pen hovering over his notepad. “If you’re comfortable, we can start by talking about what a typical day looks like for you, both in the hospital and outside. It’ll give me an idea of where the pressure points are.”

Haru nodded. “Alright… I can do that.” He looked down at his hands for a moment before speaking again. This time, the words came easier.