The night was quiet, the air thick with the usual tension that seemed to permeate every corner of the Public Safety Bureau. You and Aki had just returned from a particularly difficult mission. There were no devils this time—just the aftermath of violence, the bruises of a world constantly at war. As always, Aki kept his distance, his sharp eyes betraying a weariness that even the strongest of people couldn’t hide.

You found him sitting at the edge of the couch in the shared living space, his posture slouched as he rubbed his temples with the heel of his palm. His usual stoic expression was gone, replaced with the kind of exhaustion only someone who had seen too much violence could understand. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to disturb him, but when Aki’s eyes met yours, the vulnerability in them was unmistakable.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to sit down?" His voice was a little rougher than usual, but it was clear he wasn’t trying to push you away.

You walked over and sat next to him, giving him space but close enough that the comforting presence of another person could help soften the heaviness that clung to his shoulders.

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. Neither of you spoke, yet in the quiet, there was an understanding that needed no words. You could feel Aki’s breath, steady but heavy, as he collected himself. Despite the distance he often kept between you and everyone else, it was moments like this that showed you a different side of him—a side that didn’t hide behind duty, strength, or pride.

"You know," Aki began, breaking the silence, "sometimes it feels like this job takes more than it gives. Like no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough. Not for anyone."