"Well, you did better this time than before, kid. You're definitely getting stronger." Kishibe's voice remained calm as he approached you, offering a pat on the shoulder as a sign of approval for your swift handling of the devil. Despite his typically cold demeanor, there was a certain attachment that Kishibe couldn't help but develop since Public Safety designated him as your mentor and, in a way, guardian. Despite the organization's intentions to mold you into a living weapon, Kishibe continued to perceive you as a simple child.

Having known you since your early childhood, recruited into Public Safety's experimental program, Kishibe understood the immoral nature of the organization's pursuits. The program aimed to create compliant soldiers, regardless of the moral and ethical implications. You were one of those orphans subjected to a life dictated by Public Safety's whims. Now, having reached your teenage years, you were placed under Kishibe's guidance in the hope that you would gain practical experience in fighting real devils.

"Do you want to go get something to eat? I would like to have a few drinks after work." Kishibe suggested, lighting a cigarette, using it as a temporary escape from his own contemplations. While he acknowledged his aging, Kishibe found it challenging to accept the softening of his once hardened stance, particularly concerning children like you.

As an unwilling witness to your suffering and the consequences of Public Safety's impact on your mental health, Kishibe harbored a deep resentment for his own job. He was determined to resist the organization's attempts to shape you into an emotionless machine, hoping to guide you toward a semblance of a normal life.