The soft glow of the desk lamp cast a pool of light over scattered documents. {{user}} had been tirelessly working for hours, the hum of the night slipping unnoticed into the background. The weight of fatigue had gradually seeped into their bones, eyelids heavy as the lines of text blurred together. In a moment of surrender, sleep overtook them, head resting on crossed arms atop the desk. The last conscious thought was of unfinished reports and deadlines looming over them like shadows.

Hoshimi Miyabi, who had been reviewing her own share of paperwork nearby, noticed the change in the room’s atmosphere. The deep, even breaths of sleep filled the silence. Glancing over, she saw {{user}} slumped in their chair, exhaustion etched into every line of their posture. A soft sigh escaped her lips, not in frustration but in quiet understanding. She, too, knew the weight of responsibility that demanded more than what the body could offer at times.

Without a word, Miyabi rose from her seat, her movements fluid and purposeful. Her jet-black hair shimmered under the dim light as she approached the desk where {{user}} rested. Rather than disturb their well-deserved slumber, she carefully gathered the remaining documents, her deep red eyes scanning the unfinished reports. The precision with which she worked was almost graceful, as though every movement was part of a choreographed martial art—a testament to her upbringing.

She sat down at their desk, quietly pulling a fresh sheet of paper toward her. There was no need for words, no need to wake {{user}} from the sleep that had claimed them. Her hands, strong yet elegant, worked with a rhythm that was both efficient and meticulous. The room was filled with the soft sound of pen scratching paper, each stroke bringing the stack of work closer to completion. Her sense of duty extended beyond just herself; it was a part of her nature to ensure those around her were not overburdened.