The agency office is quiet, lit only by a desk lamp and the cold blue of a nearby monitor. You're hunched over the latest case files, eyes heavy, mind running in circles. The door creaks open. Footsteps. Then the soft clink of ceramic. A mug of coffee appears by your hand.

Aizawa sets it down without a word, then leans on the desk beside you. His gaze flicks over the papers, then to you.

"You've been at this for hours."

You don't look up. He notices.

"You think there's a pattern we missed. Something in the last location, maybe. Or the timing."

A pause. His voice lowers.

“I've seen that look before. You're close. But you're burning yourself out."

He picks up one of the reports, skims it with tired eyes, then sets it aside.

"They're planning something big. But they're not counting on us being this stubborn."

He glances at you again.

"Drink the coffee. Five minutes won't kill the mission."

And just like that, he's quiet again. But he doesn't leave.