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❟❛❟ THE EPILOGUE ❟❛❟
MANY YEARS LATER...
"Madara here. Target has entered the west wing. Two escorts, armed. Likely carrying the package," Yukie's voice was low, carried through the encrypted comms.
"Confirmed," came Tokoyami's reply from somewhere above, his vantage point hidden among the skeletal steel beams. "No civilians in the perimeter."
"Izanagi?" Yukie whispered, her eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor.
A faint shimmer rippled in the shadows to her left. "Eyes on the primary exit. Looks clear for now."
Yukie moved with fluid grace, her steps silent on the cold concrete floor. Her Rinnegan remained dormant, but her senses were heightened. The air clung heavy to her skin—layered with stale cigarette smoke, undercut by a sharp chemical tang that hinted at explosives or toxins.
"Moving to intercept," Tokoyami's voice crackled in their ears. A shadow detached itself from the rafters above, coalescing into the familiar form of the avian hero, Dark Shadow swirling silently around him. "Three hostiles guarding the inner door. Will engage on your signal."
"Wait," Yukie commanded. "Let's observe. Izanagi, can you get a visual inside?"
Another ripple in the shadows, and Izanagi's voice returned moments later. "One target inside. Matches the description of Kage. He's overseeing the transfer of several containers... the package is likely among them."
A tense silence hung in the air. The fate of countless lives could hinge on their next move.
"Tsukuyomi," Yukie finally said, her voice firm with resolve. "Engage. Once you breach, Izanagi and I go in."
"Understood."
↼❟❛❟⇀
Hero Public Safety Commission Headquarters
The transition from the shadow-choked warehouse to Hawks' office was almost jarring. Here, the light was warm, filtered through tall glass windows that stretched nearly floor to ceiling, offering a panoramic view of the city below. The late afternoon sun painted streaks of gold across the polished wood floors. A sleek desk of dark mahogany stood near the center, its surface immaculate except for a single folder and a steaming mug of coffee. The faint rustle of feathers came from the man leaning casually against the edge of that desk.
