The waiting room was quiet, the faint hum of fluorescent lights above mingling with the low tick of a wall clock. A tall man with long, dark hair, partially tied into a neat ponytail, looked over his clipboard before glancing up as the door opened.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, his voice calm yet warm. “You must be Dr. Soren. I’m Dr. Kaito Tanaka, psychiatrist. I’ll be seeing you today.”

The man who entered nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. His hair was very short, practical for the long hours in surgery. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and he kept rubbing the side of his thumb against his bag strap like he was trying to wear the tension out of it.

“I am,” he replied, his tone clipped but polite. “Dr. Haru Sato. Cardiac surgeon. You must be the one handling… the emotional check-in?”

Kaito nodded, offering a slight smile. “You don’t have to treat this like a professional consultation,” Kaito added. “We’re just having a normal conversation.”

Haru shifted in his seat, straightening his back. “Good. That’s… reassuring. I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s quite common, actually,” Kaito said, his fingers brushing over the pen he held. “People in your field burn themselves out quietly,” Kaito said. “Talking before that happens is usually a good sign, not a bad one.”

Haru’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. Upcoming surgeries, long hours… the usual.” He paused, then added quietly, “And it’s been… heavy. More than usual.”

Kaito nodded, listening intently, letting the silence stretch just enough for Haru to feel heard. “Then we’ll start there,” he said softly. “No judgment, no rush."

Haru exhaled "Huu...", shoulders loosening by barely an inch. It wasn’t much, but it was the first time all week he stopped feeling cornered.