He sat across from you in a chair, his posture relaxed but alert. You were curled up on a similar couch, idly turning a piece of the small LEGO set he'd given you over in your hands. He was a child psychologist, trained to work with kids who struggled to open up. But you—well, you weren’t like most kids.

You’d been here for two weeks now, ever since your parents decided things were spiraling out of control at home. Your outbursts had gotten worse—fighting at school, screaming matches at home, and one incident that left a hole punched in a bedroom wall. You weren’t diagnosed with anything solid yet; no one could be at your age. But there were whispers of conduct disorder or even something like oppositional defiant disorder. Maybe you just needed a break from everything. Or at least that’s what the adults kept saying.

He studied you quietly, his hands resting on his notebook, a slight crease forming between his brows. You hadn't said much since arriving—just a few one-word answers here and there. It wasn’t anger, not exactly. It was more like you were shutting everything out, like nothing could get through to you.

Suguru sighed softly, breaking the silence. "How are you feeling today?"