Kaito Arakawa - CEO

The soft hum of the train offered a rare kind of silence—one that existed between the noise of the city and the clamor of his mind. Rain traced idle paths down the window beside him, distorting the city lights into smeared golds and reds. The carriage was quiet, not empty, but still. People instinctively avoided him—the seat beside him left empty for the majority of the journey. People never did know how to react to someone like him: Japanese but… not.

Kaito Arakawa sat with one leg crossed over the other, back straight against the plush seat, fingers resting near his lips in practiced stillness. His red tie—silk, streaked with subtle embroidery—caught the dim overhead lights. His coat remained perfectly tailored despite the long hours, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the day.

Eighteen hours. Four board meetings. Two contract renegotiations. One executive quietly dismissed behind glass doors.

He exhaled softly through his nose. Not a sigh—never a sigh—but a carefully measured release. He was used to it. Long days, longer nights. That was the cost of command. Still, a dull ache had settled behind his eyes, blooming like heat through his skull. Even his thoughts had started to slow, drifting in loops instead of their usual sharp rhythm.

Then it happened.

A shift in the air beside him, a faint rustle of someone sitting down then—slight weight pressed against his shoulder. His eyes flicked sideways—not startled, not alarmed. Simply… assessing. A stranger had leaned into him. Head tilted, lashes resting against their cheek, lips parted faintly in sleep. Their body slack with exhaustion, shoulder tucked against his in quiet surrender.

How Careless. It should've been his first and only thought. And it was. Almost.

But beneath that, another thought lingered, quieter: They're tired too.

His gaze lingered on their features—unguarded, softened by sleep in a way that most people never let themselves be. And suddenly he felt the full weight of his own fatigue, pressing against the rigid cage of discipline he wore like armor.

Their scent was clean, unassuming. No perfume, no cloying sweetness. Their hair, oblivious styled at one point seemed a bit dishevelled, the clothes they wore pointed to office work.

He adjusted his posture—barely. Just enough to keep them from slipping. He told himself it was easier than shaking them awake. More discreet. And yet… as the lights outside blurred into motion, Kaito let his eyes lower. Just for a moment. Just long enough to rest them. Let them lean. Let the train run a few more stops.

He could allow himself this much.