Chapter Text
The battle was over. Thor was helping Tony back to his feet, though the armor still sputtered and struggled to restart. It would take a few minutes before it was fully functional again, so Thor steadied him, prepared to carry him if need be. Natasha waited above.
Steve, meanwhile, rose slowly, shield in hand. Someone was missing—she. A strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness. He had never believed in such things before; perhaps he had never been open to feeling them. At first, he thought it an illusion. But after meeting her, after seeing her—anything seemed possible.
It was an aura. Warm. Quietly consuming the stress and horror of battle, like salt drawing rust from iron.
“It is her,” Thor said, lifting his gaze skyward—where the others saw only empty air. But Thor saw. “She is guiding the fallen, calming the tears of those who mourn.” A smile touched his lips. To him, it was the act of a noble soul.
Tony arched a brow, following his companion’s stare and finding nothing.
“Another one of your epic metaphors, Point Break?” he muttered, squinting. “We talking about our fox princess here?”
The words hung in Steve’s ears. Guiding. Not a word one would ever choose upon first meeting Hitomi. No—at first glance, she was the cutting edge of a storm, sharp and merciless. Yet if you paused to listen… if you dared to watch more closely, to walk a little ways beside her… she revealed herself as something else. Not cold, but serene. Not indifferent, but noble. A spirit armored by centuries of solitude and survival.
Who was Hitomi, truly? Even in the face of every conclusion, she remained unpredictable.
“She is a spiritual guide, Stark,” Thor said at last, letting the warmth of that aura touch him, too. “It is more than the defeat of an enemy—it is the solemn act of leading souls away from war.”
He stepped forward. Then again. And again. Almost without realizing it, Steve found himself moving toward her. The city had grown unnaturally still, hushed in reverence, as though even its shattered heart was listening. For in that aura, his muscles eased, his breath slowed, and—just for a moment—he felt peace.
Would she leave?
The Captain walked forward, his head turning from side to side, searching. Through the haze of smoke and settling debris, he spotted a figure approaching. Each step resonated, deliberate and unhurried. Hitomi walked with quiet authority; though she might have been wounded, pain was an old companion. With dignity, she carried herself toward him, weapon resting on her shoulder, moving like the fleeting echo of a legend not fully realized.
“Your Highness,” the words slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken.
Hitomi glanced at him and offered a slow, deliberate nod before closing the distance.
“You are all well. In times of war, that is a miracle,” she said softly as she reached his side.
A normal person might have said, I’m glad you’re safe. But Hitomi was far from normal.
Steve, needing no further explanation, offered a tired smile and nodded.
“Yes. We’re all well,” he replied, glancing toward the tower. “But there’s still work to be done.”
She followed his gaze, nodding again, then fell into step beside him. He wanted to ask so many questions—if she was truly unharmed, given the blood that trailed where she walked—but she showed no sign of pain. Perhaps, like Thor, her body was different. Not quite human.
“You didn’t kill Loki,” he remarked quietly as they walked.
“Though he is a psychopathic threat, a danger obvious to all… even so, I doubt it was entirely of his own making,” she began, her voice calm. “He is Thor’s brother, and His Majesty seems to harbor a love for him I cannot fully comprehend.”
She met his gaze for a moment, offering the simplest of explanations.
“That’s all?” Steve asked, sensing there might be more beneath the surface.
Hitomi’s eyes glimmered softly at his insight. One by one, her tails settled behind her, and the red marks of Inari on her forehead faded, leaving her face in a more familiar, human form.
“My mother spoke to me. It seems… fate still has use for that headstrong goat,” she said quietly.
Steve’s eyes widened slightly. Clearly, this was a topic beyond his full understanding—but one day, he thought, he would like to sit with her and hear her thoughts.
“I see…”
He chose not to press further, not wishing to pry too deeply.
High above, in the shattered tower, a groan broke the silence. A sharp, searing pain tore through his skull as the God of Lies stirred, sprawled face-down upon the wreckage—the aftermath of his all-too-brief encounter with the Hulk.
Loki dragged himself across the fractured floor, coughing, his body aching as if every bone had turned to lead. The world felt unnervingly quiet. He turned at the sound of steady breaths, and froze.
The tip of Hitomi’s spear hovered before him. Barton stood just behind, bow drawn and steady. Thor loomed with Mjölnir in hand, Natasha clenched the scepter, Steve leveled his shield, and Tony’s repulsor whirred at his side. The circle had closed around him; one false move would end it.
Loki let out a low, dry laugh, his gaze sweeping across them before settling squarely on Hitomi.
“If you don’t mind, Stark,” he drawled, lips curving faintly. “I believe now… I would take that drink.”
The words hung in the air, a pointed reminder of the moment he had once refused Tony’s offer of whiskey—right before hurling the man through a window.
Tony arched a brow, peeling back his armor with a hiss of hydraulics.
“Well,” he said, almost amused, “a wish for the prisoner before his one-way ticket off this planet. Why not?”
Thor seized Loki’s arm, yanking him upright in one brutal motion. His voice rumbled low, edged with menace.
“Your jests are ended, brother. And you would do well to fall to your knees and kiss Lady Hitomi’s feet for sparing your head.”
The others did not catch the subtle shift in her expression, but Hitomi heard every word, her senses sharper than theirs.
Loki arched a brow at his brother—a clear sign of offense, one that asked with a glance alone: Pardon? A laugh slipped past his lips as he shook his head, only to let his gaze fall on the woman. That woman’s utter disregard for him, the way she looked at him as though he were no more than a cockroach, stirred something dangerously obsessive within him. Yet what stung far worse was Thor’s demand—not gratitude, but humiliation. His brother was not asking him to thank her; he was demanding he abase himself before Hitomi, who had nearly ended his existence.
A lesser goddess. A half-divine being of the mortal realm.
The thought alone was intolerable. Too humiliating by far. But of course, Loki would never allow such weakness to show. He smoothed it over with the best smile he could muster, because no matter the odds, he would always turn the game in his favor.
“Kiss her feet, ah,” he mused softly, just before Hitomi’s cool, frivolous gaze fixed on him. “Surely there are other parts of her body far more pleas—”
His voice cut short as Thor shoved him abruptly aside, gripping him firmly so Steve could clasp the heavy restraints around his wrists—restraints handed to him by an agent who had hurried into the wrecked floor.
“Shut your mouth,” Steve said, his voice steady yet edged with threat. His eyes locked on Loki for a beat longer before he turned away, moving toward the cluster of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to issue quick orders.
“Secure the scepter. And careful,” Natasha commanded, her tone clipped, though her breath was still uneven. She accepted the bottle of water Clint silently passed her.
“Smash puny god!” Hulk growled, still seething, his massive frame trembling with rage.
“No, no, no—big guy, listen,” Tony interjected sharply, gesturing toward the wreckage. “For the love of all that’s holy, my tower’s taken more than enough damage, and guess what? Those repair bills aren’t coming out of your big green wallet.” He grimaced at the thought of the astronomical remodeling costs.
“It’s time to sleep,” Hitomi spoke at last, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of command. The green giant swung his gaze toward her. But rather than bristle or lash out, he merely huffed, glaring at her in confusion before slowly falling still.
“Your work is done,” she added, her words steady, decisive. She turned toward one of the agents. “Bring him clothes.”
The demand hung in the air as she stepped toward the towering beast. Hulk gave another low, uncertain snort as he regarded her—confused, wary—but then, at last, he stilled.
Hulk let out a low growl, a guttural echo that rumbled through the broken tower, yet he did not retreat. Hitomi advanced unhurriedly, her silhouette cut sharply against the wreckage, the spear still in her hand though no longer raised to strike. The air itself seemed to still around her, as though even the beast recognized her presence.
“There is nothing left to destroy,” she said in a calm voice—so unlike that of any of the Avengers that even Loki tilted his head, intrigued.
The monster fixed his gaze on her, nostrils flaring as though trying to read her beyond sight. For a heartbeat his breath quickened, muscles taut as if he might roar once more… yet all that came was a heavy, almost resigned huff.
Thor frowned, tightening his grip on Loki’s arm. Loki, however, merely watched, his crooked smile hovering between mockery and fascination.
“Is she…?” Thor murmured.
Hitomi did not answer. She closed her eyes, and once more that golden aura enveloped her as she placed her hand upon the monster’s chest.
“Yoku yatta wa… mō yasuminasai,” she whispered, her voice like a lullaby. (Well done… now rest.)
Her aura glowed brighter, wrapping itself around Hulk.
“Kudakeshi tamashii yo… moto no sugata e modore.”
(Shattered soul… return to your true form.)
Her words flowed with a resonant grace, and slowly, the Hulk began to fade. His massive frame shrank, diminished, until at last he stood in the fragile, human shape of Bruce Banner. Shock rippled through the onlookers. Though they had seen Hulk retreat before, none had ever witnessed such a transformation brought forth by another’s hand.
“Guide of souls, healer of corruption…” Thor’s voice was hushed with awe, his expression stern yet reverent. “The aura of a guardian deity.” He had suspected, but now he knew.
Loki’s mask cracked ever so slightly, though only an arched brow betrayed the impression made upon him. Behind his eternal smirk of self-importance, he was unsettled. He and Thor both sensed the truth—this was no aura of a warrior-goddess. No, something in her life had forged her into a woman who could kill without hesitation.
Because that kind of aura… did not belong to just any god.
Loki smiled.
How fascinating—a woman driven to blood.
While Natasha and Clint were still staring, as stunned as Tony by what they had just witnessed, Thor was every inch the god: power, magnificence, raw strength incarnate. But Hitomi carried something altogether different—an aura of guidance, of transformation. It was unsettling and awe-inspiring at once, like those old tales of monks in the mountains who healed with nothing but their hands. Except this was no story. This was real.
“How curious,” Loki drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You can soothe even a beast no one else could tame. A pity, though, that such benevolence is stained with blood… no queen of Midgard.”
Clint bristled, nearly lifting his bow before Natasha caught his arm.
“No,” she hissed.
“Just one, Nat. I beg you,” Clint muttered under his breath. “He only needs one eye to live comfortably.” If it were up to Barton, Loki would spend his entire exile gagged and shackled.
“I say we let Barton blow off some steam,” Tony quipped, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as if the tower around them wasn’t half-ruined.
“Silence, Loki,” Thor growled, weariness creeping into his tone.
“What? It was a compliment. You are all far too sensitive.” The trickster lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug.
Hitomi ignored them all, kneeling to drape her haori gently over Bruce. The man blinked, disoriented, clutching the fabric around himself as though it were the only solid thing left in the world.
“…Thank you, Hitomi,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. She gave only a small nod in return.
Steve watched her quietly. What a strange woman, he thought—not in a way of judgment, but of mystery. A protector’s spirit, yet a fire of destruction, and not a shred of hesitation when it came to killing. A paradox that demanded to be understood.
“Dr. Banner,” he said, breaking the silence, “you should get changed and rest.” He nodded toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents waiting with clean clothes.
“Yes—please,” Tony cut in, gesturing broadly. “We’ll need you sharp to make that magical doorway. You know—the one to send Goldilocks and the traumatized orphan back to their shiny castles.”
Bruce gave a sheepish nod before retreating quickly toward the elevator, clutching the haori close around him.
Hitomi gazed out through the shattered windows, already thinking of the calls she would have to make later—how best to contribute, how much to donate. Money was the least of her concerns.
Thor’s eyes softened as he looked at her, solemn and reverent.
“Lady Hitomi, I am in your debt,” the Norse god intoned.
Hitomi turned—just in time to see Loki, standing beside his brother, shift his form.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Your Majesty,” Loki mocked, pitching his voice into a cruelly sweet imitation of hers. “Simply kneel and kiss my hand.”
Hitomi arched a brow, her tail bristling with irritation.
“I really want to kill that guy,” Clint muttered under his breath.
Steve’s jaw tightened at the blatant disrespect, but Thor moved faster. Before Loki could twist the mockery into something lewd, Mjolnir cracked against the back of his skull.
“I swear, by the Nine Realms, you’ll spend the rest of this journey unconscious,” Thor growled, already rummaging through his belt.
Loki, unbothered, shifted again—this time into a perfect mirror of Captain America.
“Do not speak so of the fair princess,” he declared, mimicking Steve’s righteous baritone. “Or I shall be forced to act as the voice of justice and—”
He never finished. Thor slapped a shimmering seal across his brother’s mouth, forcing him back to his true form with muffled protests.
“You are the most humiliating creature I have ever encountered in centuries of existence,” Hitomi said flatly, her voice laced with pure disdain. The urge to set him alight was almost overwhelming.
“Hitomi, no one’s gonna hate you if you roast his feet,” Clint offered, before coughing into his fist as though to disguise the thought—though it was exactly what she was thinking.
“The guy doesn’t shut up, not even underwater. It’s impressive,” Tony muttered, tossing back another swallow of whiskey just as Bruce returned to the room.
“Just like you, Mr. Stark. Humans are, after all, reflections of the gods.”
Tony choked mid-sip at the unprovoked jab. He spun around, scanning the room wildly, because he didn’t recognize that voice at all.
“Where the hell—? Jarvis?” he called out, because there weren’t many options, and the sound had come from right behind him—though no one was there.
“You are by far the most curious of them all. Though I will admit, at least you are tolerable.”
The others turned just in time to see Henry step out from behind Stark as if through an invisible door. Which was absurd, because the young man towered over Tony, and there was no space behind him for anyone to hide.
Tony spun on his heel and staggered back, whiskey sloshing down the front of his shirt. One hand clutched his chest as though the apparition had nearly stopped his heart.
“What the hell are you!?” he barked, patting the wall as if searching for some hidden panel or holographic trick.
Clint smirked faintly, clearly enjoying the show.
“You know this kid?” Natasha asked under her breath, her eyes narrowing on Henry.
“A curious lad,” the archer replied cryptically, as if that explained anything.
“No spatial distortion detected,” Jarvis reported after a pause, his tone oddly unsettled. “It appears he… emerged from your shadow, sir? Though I cannot account for the method.”
Henry’s gaze drifted down to the tumbler in Tony’s hand. He shook his head, the faintest curl of disdain in his expression.
“You have dreadful taste in liquor, Mr. Stark,” he said in a clipped, antique British accent.
Both Loki and Thor raised their brows at that—recognizing, perhaps, something not entirely human in the boy’s bearing. Creatures like this belonged to old tales, and yet here he was.
Slowly, their gazes slid toward Hitomi. She stood watching Henry in silence, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the look of someone quietly counting to ten to preserve what remained of her patience.
Steve was about to ask who the stranger was until he caught the look on Hitomi’s face—an expression of waning patience that was warning enough.
“Henry,” she called, her arms folding across her chest, her tone sharp. “I didn’t raise you to be rude. Introduce yourself before you start babbling.”
The young man straightened instantly, a smile forming as he offered a graceful bow. Loki’s brow arched higher—the fox woman had a servant?
“My name is Henry. At your service,” he said with unsettling composure. “From the shadows I attend, and with the privilege of criticizing you down to the way you breathe. A pleasure.” His calm blue eyes bled into crimson as his smile widened, though he closed them with a polite air. “I’ve served Hitomi-sama for over two centuries.”
“Two centur—” Tony choked on his own words. “You can’t be serious. You don’t even look twenty-six. What the hell are you selling me here?”
“So… is he like you?” Bruce asked uncertainly, his gaze flicking from Henry back to Hitomi.
Hitomi pinched the bridge of her nose, finally letting Jigoku no Kiba dissolve into flame.
“My apologies,” she said at last—possibly the first time in the entire ordeal that the fox woman had offered something resembling contrition. “He’s still young. Barely two hundred and nine. The human equivalent of an adolescent.”
Bruce, Clint, and Tony exchanged looks of disbelief. She had just called a two-hundred-year-old “young.”
“So what does that make me, a newborn?” Tony muttered, half laughing, half horrified. The thought of calling a centuries-old shadow-creature an “adolescent” was more than his ego—or his logic—could handle.
“Of course not, Mr. Stark. Don’t be ridiculous—you’re still firmly in your forties tier,” Henry replied with a smile.
Tony raised his brows, utterly incredulous.
Yeah, I can see who raised you, he thought, downing a long swallow of whisky.
Steve noticed the way Hitomi’s lips pressed together, as though silently counting to keep her patience. The boy had no filter whatsoever. Honesty could be a virtue—almost.
“Immortals don’t age the way you mortals do, Stark. Time flows differently for us,” Thor explained. “Forty years for a human is nearly half a lifetime. For us, it is but a breath. This boy will not reach the stage of young adulthood until five hundred years have passed, I would guess.”
“Correct,” Hitomi affirmed. “I am the equivalent of a young woman in her twenties, while His Majesty here could be said to stand closer to twenty-eight, perhaps thirty.”
“Attempted adult,” Henry muttered under his breath.
Thor’s head turned sharply toward him, but Henry was already pretending to check his watch with exaggerated indifference.
Loki narrowed his eyes at the entire educational lecture.
“And that is… how many years, exactly?” Clint tried to pin down something more tangible.
“I am one thousand, four hundred and fifty-three,” Thor said with serene confidence.
Tony just stared. The man looked like he’d stepped off a runway in Milan, yet claimed the age of a fossilized relic.
His gaze shifted to Hitomi. “And you…?”
“I was born in 1391,” she replied with utter nonchalance. “Six hundred and twenty-one, for those who are counting.”
Steve froze. He already felt old enough as it was, and here stood a woman whose life had begun long before Columbus ever set foot on the Atlantic.
Natasha, meanwhile, kept her eyes on Hitomi. Most women would kill to stay forever in their prime—never aging, never fading.
Hitomi, at least, seemed far more mature than Thor—despite being centuries his junior. Well, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Even Loki, though voiceless and stripped of the right to speak, privately admitted the woman carried herself with an inhuman steadiness that suggested far greater age. Her composure was carved from stone.
“So… what exactly is Henry?” Steve finally asked, seizing the chance to change the subject. The talk of centuries and immortality was making everyone restless. “He seems to act like… well, a butler of sorts.”
Hitomi turned her gaze on him.
“He belongs to a clan of servant-demons,” she explained evenly. “They are trained in extraordinary skills to serve a more powerful demon—or even a god. It’s not the same as a spirit familiar. Their bonds are forged through blood, through magic, or, should they manage to contract with a human, through soul. But such arrangements require a strong host; a weak human cannot protect them. They are called Shikikan no Akuma.”
Her eyes flicked to Henry.
“In his case, he specializes in shadows—and in smaller, subtle arts that prove surprisingly effective.”
A silence followed, thoughtful and heavy. Thor’s brow furrowed; Asgard had seen such beings, though theirs were far less flamboyant.
“Then why,” Tony broke the quiet, “does he act like some lost aristocrat out of Regency England?” He gestured loosely at Henry, whose bearing was undeniably… odd. Half-blooded in appearance, yet all aristocracy in manner.
“Because I was born in England in 1803, Mr. Stark,” Henry replied, as though it were obvious. “And my mother was a countess. Naturally, I inherited the finest manners.” He straightened with a touch of pride, as though to demonstrate them.
“That explains the theater,” Clint muttered.
“He looks like he walked straight out of a Gothic novel,” Natasha remarked. Her eyes lingered on Henry. Too perfect, too composed. Intriguing.
Loki rolled his eyes at the butler, dismissing him instantly. To him, Henry looked like a cheap imitation of himself—except raised among mortals.
Spoiled brat, he thought.
Henry’s crimson eyes gleamed, catching every flicker of reaction around him. Of course he had noticed the earlier slight toward his mistress. Of course he had been there, lingering in the shadows though unseen. His hatred was tucked neatly beneath a veneer of polite smiles. Adjusting his gloves with deliberate precision, he vanished once more—slipping soundlessly behind Tony.
“Eh? Where’d he go?” Bruce muttered, blinking.
Hitomi’s sharp gaze cut instantly toward Loki.
“Well, well… Your Majesty,” Henry’s voice purred as he materialized behind the trickster god, a smile stretched thin and mocking, never reaching his eyes. Before anyone could intervene, he spritzed Loki full in the face with a cleaning spray and buffed at him with a rag as though he were polishing glass. “Seems you had a little dirt on your face.”
Loki recoiled, his own shadows lashing out in fury, serpentine and deadly. They tried to seize Henry’s—but the butler slipped effortlessly into his own darkness, vanishing in a blink. He reappeared behind Hitomi, smile sharp as a blade.
“Oh no,” Henry said sweetly, eyes burning red, “turns out that is just your face. My mistake. Not that I’m sorry.”
The Avengers tensed, edging back as Loki’s shadows writhed like living things, dangerous and untamed. Yet Henry stood unharmed, wielding shadows of his own.
You little—
The thought seared through Loki, his green eyes sparking with restrained rage. Bound by the seal, he could not voice the curse itching at his tongue.
“Try,” Hitomi snapped, her gaze locking onto Loki, her tone carrying a command that brooked no argument.
The moment crackled with tension, but it was Clint who broke it—he’d spun half away, one hand clapped over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. A laugh burst out of him, helpless and sharp.
“God, I like this kid,” Clint wheezed between breaths, still trying—and failing—to smother his laughter. “He just called Loki trash to his face.”
Insolent brat.
The thought burned in Loki’s mind, though the Asgardian gag kept him silent. How he longed to tear it off, just to put that smug servant in his place.
Yes, hide behind your goddess. You know I’d have crushed you otherwise.
His fury seethed at the humiliation—mocked by a butler, and worse, one sworn to Hitomi.
Natasha’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. Tony didn’t bother holding back—he laughed outright.
“JARVIS, tell me you got that recorded? Please. That belongs in the family album,” he coughed, trying to cover his amusement with a veneer of composure.
Bruce bit down on his lip, fighting his own grin, while Thor beamed openly. For once, he wasn’t about to defend his brother. In truth, Loki had earned it.
“I like him,” Steve said flatly. Serious as ever, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his agreement.
The moment broke with the ding of the elevator doors. A cluster of agents filed out, Hill at the front. They carried cases of equipment and the requested materials to begin work on the device.
“We’ve secured the Tesseract and the materials. The scepter…?”
Thor turned, his gaze falling on Hitomi.
“With you here on Midgard, I can trust it will be handled wisely.” He chose not to return it to Asgard—not out of neglect, but because he trusted her will above all.
Maria’s brow creased. Irritation flickered across her features; this wasn’t a handoff to S.H.I.E.L.D. at all, but a transfer of responsibility between beings who operated far beyond her jurisdiction.
“We’ll discuss it with Fury,” she said curtly. Still, she gave them a sharp nod of acknowledgment. At her signal, the agents secured the scepter in a reinforced case and wheeled it into the elevator for transport.
As they waited for the elevator, Tony drifted away from the group, sidling closer to the doors with the others.
“We should go for that shawarma,” he suggested. “JARVIS, pull up the exact street—make sure the place is still standing. If not, we’ll just have our two atomic powerhouses—” he gestured toward Thor and Hitomi “—do a little charity work and clear the rubble.”
“Sending a lady to lift rubble? You should be ashamed.”
Tony froze mid-retort, spun around—and Henry was already gone.
“Okay. Officially, you don’t get shawarma,” Tony snapped, jabbing a finger into empty air.
The others exchanged glances. Honestly? A meal didn’t sound bad. After hours of running, fighting, and near-death scrambles with no food or water, shawarma was starting to sound like salvation.
“Well, I’m already late for the board meeting,” Hitomi murmured, signaling to Henry. “Business attire for seven, Henry.”
The butler inclined his head in crisp understanding and vanished just as smoothly as he always did.
“You’re paying the bill?” Clint asked as they filed into the elevator.
Tony arched a brow at him. “Do you ever feel shame?”
“Not around guys who have enough money to use it as toilet paper.”
Hitomi folded her arms, ears flicking faintly as she cast them all a look over her shoulder.
“The bill’s on me,” she said simply.
The others stared at her, momentarily surprised.
“Fine by me,” Tony smirked. “Let’s just drop the orphan off at daycare first—since he lost his field trip privileges.” He nodded toward Loki.
“Your Highness, at least allow me to help with the bill,” Steve offered. “And if there’s rubble to clear, Thor and I can handle it.”
He wasn’t about to let it stand—even as a joke—that Hitomi, wounded and still recovering, should be hauling debris. Henry had been right: she was still a lady, and in Steve’s eyes, both Natasha and Hitomi had already done more than enough. They deserved to sit, breathe, and eat in peace.
Bruce smiled faintly at Steve’s chivalry, while Natasha shot him a speculative look. Of all of them, Steve treated Hitomi with the most respect.
Tony rolled his eyes at the scene, already imagining Steve pulling out that Boy Scout wallet of his to cover the check—completely oblivious to the fact that Hitomi ran a billion-dollar empire.
“Please,” Tony muttered under his breath, “as if she couldn’t buy the entire block.”
“I’ll gladly move whatever rubble you point me to—so long as the feast is worthy of the effort,” Thor declared with a grin as they stepped out of the elevator.
Hitomi lingered at Steve’s side, turning slightly to meet his gaze. She didn’t dismiss him with a no, don’t bother, or a sharp I can manage. His chivalry—so old-fashioned, so sincere—was refreshing. It reminded her of the courtesies of a castle long gone, centuries past. And she knew instinctively that refusals only weighed heavily on him, a man already displaced in time.
“If you insist,” she said at last, “a rest wouldn’t hurt.”
Steve blinked. He’d expected her to brush him off—Hitomi was fiercely independent, and rarely entertained gestures of help. But she had accepted. So he only nodded. Nothing more.
And for her, that was more than enough.
“The battle caused no further devastation thanks to the extraordinary individuals who stood in our defense today.”
“Iron Man dove straight into the heart of the blast—risking his life to save the island from total annihilation.”
“I said it! I said gods were real! Those were clearly Norse gods—and a Japanese one among them!”
“Heroes? Is that what we’re calling them? Look at what’s left of our city.”
“I don’t feel safe with people like that walking our streets.”
“The Avengers are incredible—and now children everywhere have new heroes to look up to, according to reports.”
“Sources in Washington claim the Japanese government has been hiding knowledge of them. Those so-called urban legends of a woman appearing in wartime… they weren’t soldiers’ delusions after all.”
“Captain America—still protecting this world after his legendary service in the war. A true American icon.”
“Paintings in Japanese museums depict a woman with a spear, commanding fire. She should belong to myth, yet she lives.”
“The heir of an emperor—erased from history because of her divine bloodline—is alive. The true inheritor of Japan’s throne?”
“Kimoyasa no Inari Hitomi—now known as Yamagawa Hitomi, the elusive CEO of Nihon Trade—is a living legend. What else has the world hidden from us? And are we ready for the truth?”
“The U.S. government has released a statement clarifying that these heroes did not operate under their command, but as part of a special unit designated for extraordinary threats.”
“After years in the shadows, the Hulk has resurfaced—yet not to harm civilians. Has the beast finally been tamed?”
“It’s a miracle of the gods. Inari’s will has returned to guide us once more.”
“What matters is this: these people went out there ready to lay down their lives for us. For that, they deserve our gratitude.”
The voices spread across the world—on televisions, radios, newsstands. People lined up at barbershops to mimic their heroes’ haircuts, stitched together makeshift costumes, inked tattoos, painted murals across broken walls.
Some demanded answers. Others demanded oversight.
But many more cheered, celebrated, exalted. For the first time in a long time, the world had something more than governments and armies.
They had heroes.
As the echo of the news still lingered in the air, the Avengers gathered in a secluded part of the park, forming a loose circle around Thor and Loki, both dressed in civilian clothes.
Hitomi stood among them, no longer in a gown or the remnants of battle armor. She now wore a sharp business suit—slim black trousers, a crisp white shirt beneath a tailored vest lined with thin vertical stripes, a flawless tie, and a blazer draped elegantly over her shoulders. Her hair fell freely, her look completed with designer stiletto heels. The fox ears and tail were gone; her golden eyes masked behind the muted greenish-gray of a human guise.
“Learn from your path, Loki,” Hitomi said evenly, her gaze fixed on him. “My mercy was not granted lightly. The universe still requires you—for purposes far greater than petty conquest.”
Her words hung in the air—not just for Loki, but for Thor as well. Thor’s expression shifted with understanding; he knew there was more she wasn’t saying. He gave a slow, silent nod.
Thor turned then, sweeping his eyes across the circle.
“Until destiny brings us together again, my friends,” he said with a soft smile. “This will not be our last meeting.”
Tony and Bruce stepped forward, handing over the Tesseract, sealed inside a flawless contraption designed to make their journey home possible with a simple twist. Loki glanced once at Hitomi, then at his brother, before laying his hand on the device.
“Until our paths cross again,” Hitomi replied, her tone calm, resolute. They all watched as the Tesseract flared to life, bathing the Asgardians in a brilliant blue light until they dissolved into the beam that stretched skyward and vanished.
“Well,” Tony clapped his hands, already fishing for his car keys. “That’s our cue. I’ve got to get Banner back to my tower before he changes his mind about working in my incredible workspace.”
“He will,” Natasha muttered dryly, pulling luggage from the trunk of her car and handing it to Bruce with a curt nod.
“I need something to keep me busy,” Bruce murmured, adjusting his glasses against his shirt pocket. He looked around at the group with a nervous but genuine smile. “Take care, everyone.” His eyes lingered on Hitomi, and for a moment, his gratitude was plain. He had found in her a quiet guide.
Hitomi met his gaze and returned it with a steady nod.
“You’ll be fine,” she affirmed.
Tony was already behind the wheel, unwilling to endure more sentiment.
“Hop in, Banner. I’ve got a two-hour lecture waiting for me, full of Pepper’s delightful panic-yelling, and I’m not escaping it.” He paused only to throw a smirk at the others. “I’ll be in touch about expenses. See you at the charity galas, Foxy.”
With that, he slid on his sunglasses and pulled away, Bruce in tow.
“The invoice’s going straight to the shredder,” Clint muttered under his breath, chewing on his gum as he pushed his shades up.
“Have you considered joining us?” Natasha asked Steve, her meaning clear—S.H.I.E.L.D.
“I don’t think it’s in my plans for now,” Steve answered, his tone firm but not dismissive. “But… I’ll keep it in mind.” His voice carried the quiet certainty of someone who wanted time to breathe, to adjust to a world he barely recognized.
Natasha gave a small nod of understanding before glancing at Hitomi, Clint beside her.
“We’ll see you again, princess,” she said, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.
“Safe travels,” Hitomi replied, without a hint of displeasure at the thought of their paths crossing once more.
Clint and Natasha left, their figures retreating into the distance until only Steve and Hitomi remained, the hush of the breeze filling the silence between them. Steve slid his hands into his pockets and turned to face her.
There were countless questions burning inside him, but only one rose clear enough to voice.
“Will you disappear again?” he asked.
Hitomi looked at him, the wind tugging gently at her hair. Those words—so much like Fury’s a decade ago—felt different now, coming from Steve. She lifted her gaze to the sky.
“I can’t hide anymore,” she said, not as the corporate mogul the world knew, but as the figure whose true image was already beginning to circle the globe. “But…” She lowered her eyes to meet those ocean-blue ones once more. “Even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t have.”
Steve stood silent. She was going to remain—sometimes near, sometimes distant—but she would be there.
“History… must be remembered,” she said, and strangely, Steve understood it instantly. “You should consider working with S.H.I.E.L.D. At least with you there, the agency might feel… more honest, as much as it can.”
She wasn’t pressing him, only pointing out that the world still needed him. It meant something—she trusted him. Perhaps she saw in Steve the reflection of the man she had admired for so long: simply, a good man.
Steve’s eyes fell to the ground as a small laugh escaped him, before he looked back up at her.
“I’ll keep it in mind, maybe…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ll let you know if I accept.”
It was an invitation, a promise of another meeting somewhere down the line. Hitomi gave the faintest internal gesture, uncertain how to take it. She stepped closer and slipped a hand into her pocket.
“You’ll know where to find me,” she said, holding out a business card, “if you want me to bring you up to speed on history.”
Steve blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected her to offer such a thing. She didn’t smile, not outwardly—but the gesture itself was enough. He took the card with a slight tremor in his fingers, nodding as he tucked it carefully into his jacket. Then he made for his motorcycle.
At the last moment, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Until I see you again, Your Highness.”
This time, it wasn’t Hitomi walking away. It was she who stood watching as he left.
“Until I see you again, Captain,” she replied.
The Harley roared to life, a perfect companion as it carried him off into the streets, swallowed by the city. Hitomi lingered, breathing in the fresh air, letting it brush across her face as she closed her eyes. From her clothes she pulled Coulson’s handkerchief, raising it once before letting green fire consume it. The ashes drifted skyward, carried away by the wind, like a soul seeking its new path.
“Good work, everyone…”
Her voice was soft, her solitude tempered by a faint smile as she lifted her eyes to the sky once more. Destiny would always bring them together—it was written.
Until she saw them again.
Seven extraordinary individuals.
Seven souls who had come together to fight in this cycle.
Seven heroes.
The seven Avengers.