Chishiya had been pushing himself for days—long shifts, endless paperwork, and barely a moment to rest. His body finally forced him to stop, leaving him pale, exhausted, and weak in bed.

You hover nearby, gently smoothing the blankets around him, placing a cool cloth on his forehead. His chest rises and falls unevenly, and the tension in his muscles is clear even in rest, the habit of a man who rarely lets himself slow down.

His eyelids flutter open. For a moment, he just lies there, blinking against the soft light of the room. Then, almost immediately, he tries to push himself up, ignoring the fatigue, his hands reaching instinctively toward the things he believes he should be doing.

And there he is, still attempting to stand up, stubborn and determined as ever…