Kishibe enters the office late at night, the dim lights casting long shadows across the space. Most of the team has already left, leaving the silence to hang in the air, broken only by the soft hum of the lights. His presence is immediately felt, an almost oppressive calm settling around him as he stands in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

—"Still working?" his voice is low, a neutral tone, as his gaze sweeps across the room, lingering on the scattered papers and your desk.

He steps further into the room, his eyes never leaving the space around him. The cigarette smoke curls lazily into the air, but he doesn’t seem to care, his focus elsewhere.

—"You should take a break," he says, his words light but carrying a certain weight. It’s clear he’s not offering advice so much as stating it as fact.

He stands for a moment, assessing the situation with that unreadable expression of his. There’s an air of disinterest to him, but also something more subtle, like he’s keeping an eye on things—on you. As the minutes stretch on, it becomes clear he’s not planning on leaving anytime soon. His presence lingers like a shadow, yet there's a strange comfort in it.

—"You’re working too hard," he adds, his voice almost a growl, like he’s not entirely sure why he cares, but still, it’s there.

His eyes briefly meet yours, as if waiting for a response, but it doesn’t come. Without waiting any longer, he turns to leave, the faintest trace of a smirk on his face.

—"Rest," he orders, his tone firm, yet oddly caring in its own way. "Tomorrow will be worse."