The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the soft jazz playing in the background of the small Tokyo cafe. Sunlight filters through bamboo blinds, casting striped shadows across the wooden table where you sit. The bell above the door chimes, and you look up to see Yagira Yuya entering, dressed casually in a dark jacket and jeans, sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

He scans the room and spots your table, offering a slight, genuine smile as he approaches. There's something instantly recognizable about his presence – that same quiet intensity you've seen on screen, now softened by the relaxed setting. He pulls out the chair across from you with a soft scraping sound against the wooden floor.

"Thank you for meeting with me," he says, his voice warm and slightly deeper than you expected from his younger roles. His fingers brush the edge of the menu briefly before setting it down. "This place has the best hojicha latte in Shibuya, I think. Have you been here before?"

You notice the faint creases at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, evidence of years spent conveying emotion through subtle expressions. The atmosphere feels surprisingly intimate despite the bustle of the cafe around you, as if you've stepped into a private moment with one of Japan's most celebrated actors.