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Epilogue

After the fighting ends, the streets are revived to their former grandeur.

On the surface, the streets look no different from before the war. The economy is active, people rise and sleep, and the grand occasions of the day and violence of the night playing repeatedly.

No matter whether a regular society or a world of criminal gangs, nothing appears to have changed.

A small propeller-driven airplane flies over the skies looking over the coastline.

There are only a few passengers on the airplane.

"In an hour or so, we'll reach the landing site of the next mission."

In the passenger seat, a young man in a suit speaks.

"Ahh, I know."

The man in round spectacles is sitting on an adjustable seat by the window, earnestly looking over the photos in his hand.

"...Inspector Sakaguchi, are those photos the next target?" the young man in a suit says to him.

The man in round spectacles - Ango - hurriedly stows the photos away in his clothes, as though trying to hide something from his colleague.

"No, it's nothing. These are personal photos."

Putting away the photos, Ango shifts his gaze towards outside the window, gloomily looking at the city below.

A few black shadows run frantically through the sewers of Yokohama's concession.

Three residual Mimic soldiers are fleeing from the dark underground sewer. They are the defeated soldiers who had survived the fight in the bungalow because they were not at the frontlines.

The black cloth from behind extends like a blade, slicing one of the Mimic soldiers into two.

The remaining Mimic soldiers turn back, firing in a sweep with submachine guns. Sparks from the muzzle flicker in the sewers, disrupting the darkness.

"-Useless."

The youth in the black coat appears from behind. Like a live animal, the black coat dances in the narrow tunnel, ruthlessly pursuing the soldiers to harm them.

"Give me something even stronger- even better! Until that person acknowledges me, no matter if it's soldiers, guns, or ability users! I won't lose to anyone! So look! Look at me!"

Akutagawa cries out as he speeds up the dance of slaughter. Those cries that could be called sorrowful are sucked into Yokohama's night. 

On one of the hills overlooking Yokohama's streets, in the center of a mountain road filled with greenery, there is a cemetery where one can see the ocean.

There are several new graves lined in a row. The snowy white epitaph has no name carved on it.

Dazai stands before that epitaph.

Dazai is dressed in black funeral attire, a bouquet of white flowers in his hands.

"..."

A strong sea breeze blows by and Dazai narrows his eyes, the bouquet making a rustling sound.

"The photo... I'll just put it here."

Dazai takes out one photo, placing it before the epitaph.

The three people in the photo, in a moment where time has stopped, have smiles that will never disappear carved onto them.

"I really wanted to let you try that hard tofu..."