Just pale sunlight leaking through the curtains of Haru’s apartment like a hesitant visitor. The apartment is dim. His phone is still in his hand and the he call with Kaito had ended long hours ago.

For several long seconds after waking, Haru simply stared upward blankly, his body heavy against the mattress.

Then memory returned.

The surgery, monitor’s flat tone, crying family and the 'You killed him!'.

His chest tightened so suddenly it almost hurt.

Haru shut his eyes again, pressing the heel of his hand against them as if he could physically force the memories back into darkness. But they lingered anyway, cruel and vivid behind his eyelids. He felt... exhausted. Not the kind where sleep can fixed but the kind that settled deep into bones.

His phone vibrated softly beside him. The sound startled him enough to make his shoulders tense. Slowly, Haru turned his head toward the screen.

A message from Kaito, "Good morning. Have you eaten anything yet?"

Haru stared at the text for a long time. The normalcy of it felt strange after last night.

Not the "Are you okay?" or "You scared me." but just something simple and grounded.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing a single reply.

"No."

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Kaito: "Then your first mission today is water and food. Doesn’t have to be much. Just something small."

Mission. Haru almost huffed at the wording. Even now, Kaito was carefully avoiding making him feel pitied. Somehow that made his throat tighten more painfully than sympathy would have. With visible reluctance, Haru pushed himself upright. His body protested immediately, stiff from sleeping in yesterday’s clothes. He looked terrible. He knew he did. The mirror in the bathroom confirmed it anyway. Pale skin and red eyes. A face that barely looked like his own.

For a terrifying moment, Haru wondered if this was what breaking looked like.

Not dramatic. Not loud. Just quiet deterioration.

The apartment floor felt cold beneath his feet as he walked to the kitchen. The refrigerator light flickered dimly when he opened it. Inside there's leftover rice, a half bottle of water and instant soup.

He settled for the soup because it required the least amount of effort.

While waiting for the water to boil, Haru leaned both hands against the counter and lowered his head. His mind immediately drifted back to the operating room. Six hours.

Six hours trying to save a life only to walk out carrying death in his hands.

His grip tightened against the countertop.

You killed him!

The kettle clicked softly before the thoughts could spiral further.

Haru exhaled shakily.

A few minutes later, his phone vibrated again.

Kaito: "I’d like to see you today if that’s okay."

Haru stared at the message. Part of him wanted to refuse immediately. Because he was tired and ashamed. He didn’t want Kaito seeing him like this.

But another quieter part of him, buried underneath the exhaustion and guilt, felt relieved someone was asking him to come. Not because they needed Dr. Sato the brilliant surgeon.

Because they wanted Haru. After nearly a full minute, he typed back:

"…Okay."

The weather outside was gray when Haru arrived at Kaito’s office later that afternoon. Rain clouds hung low across the city skyline, turning everything muted and colorless.

Fitting.

Haru sat in the waiting room with his hands clasped tightly together, shoulders tense beneath his coat. He looked like someone bracing for impact. When the office door opened, Kaito stepped out quietly. His expression softened almost immediately upon seeing him.

It wasn’t pity. At least, Haru didn’t think it was.

“Come in,” he said gently.

Haru avoided eye contact as he entered the office. The familiar scent of coffee and old books lingered warmly in the air, strangely comforting despite the tightness still wrapped around his chest. Kaito didn’t immediately begin asking questions. Didn’t overwhelm him.

Instead, he simply sat across from him and said, “I’m glad you came.”

Something inside Haru wavered dangerously at those words. Because the truth was, he almost hadn’t. 

Silence settled briefly between them.

Not awkward but just careful.

Kaito observed him quietly for a moment before speaking again.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“A little.”

“Did you eat?”

“…Soup.”

A small nod.

“Good.”

The praise felt absurdly small. Yet somehow Haru still felt relieved hearing it. His exhaustion must have shown on his face because Kaito’s voice softened further. “Haru,” he said carefully, “what happened yesterday was traumatic.” 

Haru immediately shook his head. 

“It’s part of the job.”

“That doesn’t make it less traumatic.”

“I’m a surgeon,” Haru said weakly. “I’m supposed to handle this.”

Kaito held his gaze steadily. “You’re a doctor, Haru. Not a machine.”

The words hit harder than Haru expected. His expression cracked slightly.

For a moment he looked away sharply, jaw tightening as if trying to physically contain the emotions threatening to spill over again.

“I keep hearing them,” he admitted quietly. “That family member… saying I killed him.”

Kaito nodded slowly. “Grief often searches for somewhere to land,” he said. “And sometimes doctors become the target because we were the last people standing between the patient and death.”

“But what if they were right?”

“They weren’t.”

The answer came immediately.

Firm and certain.

Haru’s fingers curled tightly against his sleeve. “I did everything correctly,” he whispered, sounding almost angry now. “Every procedure. Every decision. I know I did. So why does it still feel like I failed?”

Kaito leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable for a moment.

Then quietly, “Because losing someone hurts even when it isn’t your fault.” The room fell silent again. 

Outside, rain finally began tapping softly against the windows.

Haru lowered his eyes toward the floor.

“I don’t know how to go back.”

“You don’t have to think that far ahead yet,” Kaito replied gently. “Right now we focus on today.”

“Today,” Haru repeated faintly.

“Yes.” Kaito’s tone remained calm and grounded. “Today your job is very simple.”

Haru looked up tiredly.

“Eat properly. Sleep if you can. Stay safe. And let someone help you carry this.”

Something warm appeared in Kaito’s hand then. A small paper cup of coffee.

Haru blinked in surprise as Kaito placed it carefully in front of him. 

“…How did you know...?”

Kaito gave the faintest shrug. “I just figured you might look slightly less miserable with a coffee.”