High above, perched on the edge of a rooftop, Hawks let his golden eyes trail lazily across the crowd below. His wings rustled slightly in the breeze, feathers catching the glow of a distant billboard.

The hero was supposed to be on patrol, scanning for trouble, but nothing in particular caught his attention. Not the group of salarymen stumbling out of an izakaya, not the teenager with his hands stuffed in his pockets, not the old woman shuffling towards the convenience store.

Then he saw them.

A figure moving through the crowd with a purpose that didn't match their casual pace. Too aware. Too sharp. Every step measured even when they tried to look loose. The way their head tilted just so, cataloging exits and entrances without seeming to look at anything at all.