—
The wind carried dust and tension through the skeletal streets of Tokyo. Hoshiro stood tall, though his knees trembled beneath the weight of Tsukihana's gaze. She wasn't like the Syndicate, or even Amaterasu—she was something older. Calmer. More dangerous.
"I watched your city burn and rebirth itself in fire and fury," she said. "You killed a god, masked hero. Now, you must answer for what that has unbalanced."
Ayame stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "You want to lecture us? After everything the Syndicate did?"
"I do not speak for them," Tsukihana replied. "I speak for the unseen forces that hold your world together. You've shaken them."
Hoshiro slowly removed his mask. His eyes, glowing faintly blue, met hers. "And if the world needed shaking?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Then you become not its savior… but its tyrant."
The air trembled again, and behind her, a rip in space shimmered—like a mirror suspended in the sky.
"You will come with me," she said. "To a place where balance is judged. Where power is weighed against truth."
Kazuki stepped forward, voice tight. "Like hell he will."
But Hoshiro raised a hand. "No. I'll go."
Everyone turned to him in shock.
"She's right," he said softly. "If I'm going to lead this city… I have to answer for what I've done."
Tsukihana's eyes gleamed. "Wise. Rare."
The rift opened wide. And without another word, Hoshiro stepped into the unknown.
—