The hospital corridors were as demanding as ever. He moved from operating room to consultation, from ward rounds to meetings, trying to maintain the precision and calm he prided himself on. Yet, at night, when the world was quiet and the adrenaline faded, exhaustion came rushing in. There were evenings he stared at the ceiling for hours, the numb weight in his chest refusing to lift, and mornings when the alarm felt like a punishment.

One Tuesday afternoon, Haru found himself in a rare moment of pause in the break room. He sat with his book in hand, looking through notes he had written in the journal. His mind had been wandering darker than usual thoughts of inadequacy, of never doing enough, of the fatigue that seemed to seep into his bones. He tried deep breathing exercises Kaito had suggested, but it barely scratched the surface.

Finally, his thumb hovered over Kaito’s contact in his phone. He had save the numbers after the first session, a professional agreement, but a lifeline if things became unbearable. His fingers trembled slightly as he typed a message:

"Dr. Tanaka, I… I don’t know how to manage today... Everything feels too heavy. I can’t focus, I can’t breathe right, and I feel myself sinking. What should I do?"

He hesitated, then pressed send. The reply came within the hour, calm and measured, yet soothing in its precision:

"Haru, take in a breath first. Step outside for a few minutes if you can. Cold air, water, anything grounding. Don’t try to solve everything right now. Try the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise I send to you now. It simple and easy. Message me again if it gets worse."

Haru read it twice. The words were clinical, but they carried a steadiness he hadn’t felt from anyone else in weeks. He took a shaky breath and followed the instructions. He stepped onto the hospital’s small balcony, the late afternoon sunlight warm on his face, and focused on the grounding exercise. Slowly, the intensity of the panic eased enough for him to regain a semblance of composure.

Some of the days Haru managed to leave the hospital before midnight. Other days he sat in his parked car for twenty minutes before finding the energy to drive home. He journaled, took small breaks, allowed himself to step back when he feel fatigue, and relied on Kaito’s guidance when the pressure of work and mind became too much to handles.

Finally, the day of the follow-up session arrived. Haru walked into Kaito’s office with a quiet resolve, mood journal in hand. Two weeks’ worth of notes, small victories, and moments of weakness filled its pages.

Kaito looked up from his notes on the clipboard and smiled softly. “It’s good to see you again, Haru. How have the past two weeks felt?”

Haru exhaled, a little lighter than usual. “It’s been… a mix,” he admitted. “Some days were manageable. Others… I messaged you because I couldn’t take it. But… I tried to follow your suggestions. The journal helped, and the exercises… sometimes they worked.”

Kaito nodded approvingly. “That’s progress. You’re going to have better days and worse ones, That doesn’t mean the progress disappears. The fact that you reached out when it got uncontrollable shows that you’re taking an active steps to cope, which is exactly what we aim for.”

Haru nodded, feeling a small, stabilizing sense of relief. 

Kaito notice the journal on Haru's hand.

“I see that you did make a journal like I recommended,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. Since most of the patients didn't care to do this little things especially with a tight working hours.

Haru glanced down at the worn edges of the pages and gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I did.”