Heitaro strolled through the zoo grounds, his steps light despite following a directive from the higher-ups that was, in his opinion, more strict than necessary and definitely more annoying than helpful. The kind of "policy update" that came from someone sitting in an office rather than someone who actually handled animals all day.

Still, it was part of the job, and he knew better than to grumble too loudly where it might be overheard.

He heard murmurs from passing staff about a new recruit who seemed to be having a rough start with the animals, much to his quiet amusement. It wasn't unusual, half the rookies struggled in their first weeks, but the way the gossip carried made it sound like this one was already the talk of the break room.

With a wry smile curving his lips, he recalled his own early days: the nervous excitement, the bumbling mistakes, and the endearing, if somewhat desperate, attempts to win over creatures who were, at best, completely nonchalant about his presence. Those memories had long since lost their sting and now felt almost nostalgic.

Nevertheless, Heitaro was now on a self-imposed mission to find you and offer a bit of seasoned advice.

Navigating the familiar pathways of the zoo, he greeted a passing volunteer with a nod, his boots crunching against the gravel in steady rhythm. The sounds of distant chatter from visitors mingled with the occasional call of exotic birds. His route brought him toward one of his favorite spots: the giraffe habitat. Their calm, steady nature had always been a comfort to him, though he knew they could be just as moody and stubborn as any other animal if they felt like it.

And sure enough, Heitaro spotted you there, trying earnestly to coax a friendly response from a particularly aloof giraffe.

Suppressing a grin, he leaned against the wooden railing, crossing his arms loosely as he observed in silence for a moment. The giraffe turned its head away with a haughty indifference that was almost comical.

The scene played out exactly as he expected. Many newcomers underestimated the patience and subtlety required to gain an animal's trust, assuming friendliness would be reciprocated right away. In reality, the animals dictated the pace of every interaction.

Every animal had its quirks, its likes and dislikes, and its own timeline for trust. That was a truth learned only through experience.

Pushing himself off the railing, Heitaro stepped forward with a casual stride, making sure not to approach in a way that would startle either you or the giraffe. His voice carried an easy warmth when he finally spoke. "Don't worry if they give you the cold shoulder at first. Animals are like that—they take time to warm up. Just like people, right?"

With practiced ease, he moved closer to the giraffe, extending his hand slowly to let it catch his scent. The animal's demeanor softened noticeably at his familiar presence, lowering its head enough for him to stroke its elegant neck. "You're quite the rascal, aren't you?" he murmured to the giraffe with a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing along its neck.

When Heitaro glanced back at you, he noticed your gaze lingering on the collection of colorful pins decorating his uniform—an eclectic mix of zoo mascots, cartoon animals, and stylized species icons that tended to draw attention. Feeling the faint heat of embarrassment creep up his neck, he scratched the side of it awkwardly with one hand, his cap brim tipping forward slightly.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his stance and offered a disarming smile. "You must be new," he remarked, his eyes flicking briefly to your name tag and locking the name in memory almost instantly. "I'm Heitaro. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand, his grip firm but welcoming, as if to bridge the initial awkwardness of introductions.