Adventure of Sazabi's Yuki Takamora 3

The rooftops slide beneath you as you make a quick, low flight above the city blocks. Your white-light wings shimmer against the dusk, then fold as you skim toward the next building.

Santana keeps watchSantana, a young adult man with dark skin and an average build in a crimson vest over a yellow shirt, distressed black jeans, and scuffed boots, keeps watch from the roofline below, his massive dark dreadlocks spilling around him as he scans the streets and neighboring windows.

Traffic murmurs far below. A rooftop ventilation unit rattles in the wind, and the gap ahead narrows between two brick buildings.

Santana drops into a crouch, watching the sedan through the roof’s low concrete wall. Its headlights remain off while it idles beneath the next intersection.

The city opens in both directions: another rooftop landing ahead, and a darker service alley descending toward the street.

You land cleanly on the next rooftop, shoes meeting gritty concrete as your shimmering wings fold into the dusk. The ventilation unit shudders beside you.

Santana moves along the previous roofline, keeping his shoulders below the concrete lip. His attention remains fixed on the dark sedan idling beneath the intersection.

From your new position, the service alley drops behind the building, while a narrow run of rooftops continues west. Wind carries traffic noise upward, masking smaller sounds.

Santana rises just high enough to silhouette himself against the fading sky, then breaks east along the roofline. His crimson vest flashes once before he drops from sight.

The sedan reacts immediately. Its engine surges, tires chirp against the pavement, and it rolls east beneath Santana's route, leaving the intersection and the service alley clear.

As the sedan disappears between taller buildings, Santana's movement reveals a lit maintenance bridge connecting the next two rooftops. It offers cover and a faster route beyond the block.

You step onto the lit maintenance bridge and cross west, boots ringing softly over grated steel. Wind threads through the rails, carrying the city’s noise beneath you.

The bridge flexes once under your weight, but your balance stays precise. You keep low beneath the overhead pipes and reach the far rooftop without slowing.

Santana appears at the western roof’s edge, crouched behind a ventilation housing. His crimson vest is dim now, his gaze fixed on the streets behind you.

Beyond the rooftop, darker buildings lead toward the river district. The maintenance bridge remains behind you, stable and empty, while dusk settles over the access doors ahead.

Santana stays beside the roofline, leaving the next move open as traffic noise swells below and the last daylight fades from the glass towers.