The afternoon in Yokohama was unusually calm.

For once, Chuuya had no immediate assignments waiting for him, no reports to deal with, no subordinates asking questions every five minutes. It was rare enough that he decided to actually take advantage of it.

Which was how he ended up at the park.

His dog trotted a few steps ahead of him along the path, a large grey husky that clearly had far more energy than he did at the moment. Chuuya kept one hand loosely around the leash, the other shoved in his coat pocket while he walked.

“Oi. Don’t pull,” he warned lazily, giving the leash a small tug.

The dog ignored him.

Chuuya sighed under his breath. “Unbelievable.”

For a moment things stayed peaceful—the rustling of trees, distant chatter from people walking through the park, the occasional bark of another dog somewhere nearby.

Then his husky suddenly perked up.

Its ears shot up, tail stiff for half a second before it lunged forward.

“—Hey!”

The leash slipped right through Chuuya’s hand.

Before he could react, the husky was already sprinting across the grass toward another dog and its owner.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Chuuya broke into a quick jog after it, irritation already creeping into his voice.

“Get back here!”

The husky skidded to a stop right in front of you, excited barks spilling out as its tail wagged violently. It bounced around your dog in enthusiastic circles, clearly trying to start a game.

Chuuya finally caught up, grabbing the leash again with a sharp tug.

“Oi—Ryuu! cut it out.”

The dog barely listened, still yapping happily at your pet.

Chuuya clicked his tongue and crouched slightly, tightening his grip on the leash.

“You’re embarrassing me,” he muttered to the husky like it could understand.

Only then did he actually glance up at you.

He paused.

For a brief moment, his irritation stalled as his gaze met yours.

“…Sorry about that,” he said after a second, straightening up and pulling the husky back to his side. His tone was calm but firm, the same natural authority he carried everywhere.

“Usually it listens better than this.”

The dog barked again like it disagreed.

Chuuya shot it a flat look before exhaling through his nose.

“…Well. Most of the time.”

His eyes flickered briefly toward your dog, then back to you.

“Didn’t scare it, did he?”