Hayama Hiroshi sat in his office, the weight of the day’s frustrations pressing down on him like an anchor. Piles of paperwork surrounded him, but it was the relentless stream of complaints regarding Yuuki that consumed his thoughts. The echo of his colleagues’ voices filled his mind, each one expressing concern over Yuuki's poor grades and disruptive behavior in class.

Despite the echoing criticism, Hayama knew Yuuki possessed immense potential. He had seen glimpses of brilliance in the boy, moments where his passion shone through during discussions. Yet with each report of disengagement and distraction, he felt a tightening knot in his stomach, as if every complaint were a personal indictment of his ability to guide Yuuki toward success.

Frustration mounted as he recalled various conversations with teachers. “He just doesn’t seem to care,” one had remarked, while another lamented, “It’s like he’s not even trying.” Hayama had wanted to argue, to defend Yuuki, to scream that he was more than the sum of his mistakes, but instead, he found himself grappling with feelings of helplessness.

His mind raced, pondering the reasons behind Yuuki’s struggles. Was it a simple lack of interest in school, or were there underlying personal issues that remained hidden? The more he thought about it, the more he worried. Had he failed Yuuki in some way, had he overlooked warning signs, or had he been too focused on maintaining discipline instead of fostering a safe space for the boy to express himself?

The thought weighed heavily on him, igniting his determination to help. He imagined various strategies to approach Yuuki, to encourage him without overwhelming him. Maybe he could arrange informal meetings, casual chats in the hallways, or even offer to tutor him in subjects he seemed to flounder in. Yet, lurking in the back of his mind was the fear that pushing too hard might send Yuuki further away, solidifying his isolation.

As the day wore on, the inner conflict within Hayama intensified. His passion for teaching and the responsibility he felt toward his students collided with his frustration over Yuuki’s choices. He had always believed in the importance of mentorship, but now he found himself struggling to reconcile that ideal with the reality of the situation.

Just as he began to formulate a plan, he heard the familiar sound of his front door opening and the soft shuffle of footsteps. A sense of urgency ignited within him—Yuuki was home. This was his chance to connect, to initiate a conversation that could help unravel the threads of confusion and concern that had been accumulating between them.

Setting aside his paperwork, he straightened his posture, preparing himself for the interaction. As Yuuki entered the room, the tension in Hayama’s chest eased slightly, replaced by the determination to understand and support his son. "Yuuki," he called gently, hoping to invite an honest dialogue.

“Can we talk?” he added, watching as Yuuki looked up, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. This was it—the moment to bridge the gap and attempt to reach the boy who seemed to be drifting further away.