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meli-r · 2 years ago

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Psycho Pass: Colorful World, Ch. 23

Chapter: Wattpad | AO3

"Let's go over this one more time."

Without looking her in the eye, but gently waving her hands, Yashiro spoke, "Miyake Ren had a gun. He fired at Akiyama-san, pointed the gun at me. I fired back."

Kasei Joushuu watched her for several seconds with a completely serious stare that was difficult to decipher.

"Is this the gun Miyake had in his hand?"

A white, arachnid-like forensic drone approached them, holding a very small weapon. Yashiro looked down and recognized the Smith & Wesson Model 637.

“I believe so. Yes,” she nodded quietly.

“And where were you during this altercation?” Kasei slowly turned her head to the side.

“I told you. There was a fight. My dominator—”

"Enforcer Akiyama, could you answer the question?” Kasei cut her off, raising her voice.

Daiki blinked and raised his head a bit, looking at the head of the Public Safety Bureau standing in front of them. His neck and back straightened slightly. He was standing to the side, a meter behind the inspector. For several seconds he did not know what to say, as it was unusual for someone of much higher rank to address or even look at an enforcer.

“I hadn’t arrived yet,” he shook his head. “I heard gunshots, but I couldn’t see anything from my eye line. As Inspector Takahashi stated, when I found her, Miyake Ren fired at me and then at her.”

“Why weren’t you with Inspector Takahashi?”

“I was ensuring Kozuki Ryogo’s safety.”

“What about Inspector Takahashi’s safety?” Kasei raised an eyebrow. “You put an enforcer before duty, which is to assist an inspector.”

Daiki's lips parted and he gulped, blinking and looking down with wide eyes. He held his breath, thinking of an appropriate response for the situation.

“Enforcer Akiyama was doing his job. I ordered him to rescue Kozuki Ryogo while I diverted the rest of the group,” Yashiro explained in a calm, almost nonchalant voice.

Kasei’s attention was drawn to the inspector, causing him to look at her out of the corner of his eye, with his eyebrows slightly drawn together, as if warning her of the danger.

“And you made this decision yourself?”

Yashiro's expression remained cool and composed, as if she had anticipated those questions.

“There was no one to turn to for advice, and circumstances required immediate action, something that could happen to anyone on field, so I acted accordingly.”

“Indeed. However, the bureau is displeased with your deliberate decisions and methods. Your division's priority was to ensure Miyake Ren's transfer to the rehabilitation center. Since Inspector Aoyanagi failed to comply, I now have to personally supervise you do her job until her full recovery, which is not what we planned when we incorporated you into Division 2.”

“I assure you she didn't crash on her own volition,” Yashiro snapped.

Daiki raised his eyebrows but did not turn to them, shocked by her behavior. The inspector’s face contorted in seconds, though the rest of her body remained motionless and calm, arms at either side. Even though Daiki had given her a wet towel to wipe her face before they had that meeting, she still had a few sleeves of blood on her clothing, which were not so visible because of the dark color of the fabric.

"I am well aware of that. My only intention is to show you how her absence affects the entire Division 2, including your judgment and the way you operate, something the bureau won’t tolerate in the future,” Kasei narrowed her gray eyes.

“Then don’t blame her when it was you who released him,” Yashiro responded with coldness and utter ease, genuinely indifferent to the glare she was receiving.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Kasei’s voice echoed, as she blinked and drew her eyebrows together.

Slowly, Daiki lowered his head with wider eyes, until he walked away, leaving the two women alone. Yashiro turned her head towards him, following him for a few seconds and avoiding Kasei's gaze. She took a deep breath and whispered reluctantly, "No."

“I find your rudeness endearing, but unwelcome. Is it fear or courage that drives it, girl?”

“Even though it all comes down to what the Sibyl System determines... I think it would have been useful to keep him in a detention cell, so they wouldn't know we were moving him to a rehabilitation center. Besides, we needed to question him further.”

"So you could break his other hand?" Kasei blurted out with a smirk, causing the inspector to frown and blink a couple of times, looking into her eyes for a few moments. “You think they were helped by someone working inside the bureau. I find it vulgar.”

“But it might explain how he’s been using classified information about unsolved cases,” insisted Yashiro.

“Oh, you think Agawa is behind this?” Kasei tilted her head to one side and lifted her chin a little.

“I think it’s possible.”

“You shall find out later. Right now, there is another matter we have to settle, and that is allowing an enforcer to run loose with an indisposed inspector from your division. Explain,” she demanded.

“I did it for Inspector Aoyanagi’s protection. With Enforcer Kozuki kidnapped and Miyake running away, there was no time to drive to the nearest hospital in the area and drop them off, or call other colleagues to pick them up. I instructed him to stay with the inspector and wait for an ambulance. We weren’t absolutely sure of Miyake’s purpose, so I thought she needed supervision. Given his allegiance to the system, I estimated he wouldn’t escape. I take full responsibility.”

“Allegiance, hm? Leaving two enforcers unsupervised was a mistake. You would be wise to remember that dogs turn quickly into wolves when a rope no longer holds them. You struggle to see it because you overidentify with both victims and criminals, blurring boundaries between their minds and yours, guilt makes it personal, and sometimes you unravel,” Kasei studied her with narrowed, concentrated eyes for several seconds. “I am officially starting to be concerned about you, Inspector Takahashi.”

“Officially,” Yashiro raised her eyebrows for a second, gazing at the factory’s huge old oil machines behind the woman. “I thought the reason you have me see a psychologist like Shima Seigen who no longer works at the PSB is so that my mental well-being remains unofficial.”

“We just want to be careful with you and those around you. Only a man who is able to cloud other people’s hues without affecting his own can deal with a person of similar gifts."

Yashiro was staring at her with slightly parted lips and eyebrows drawn together, while Kasei was composed with a small smile on her face.

"So now you're up to speed," her voice was lower than before.

"We don’t want to break you. Is that what’s happening?” Kasei asked fading her smirk, but her voice was feigned and mocking and she did not bother to hide it.

“No.”

“Good, because not only have you failed to capture Miyake Ren, but you have let his accomplices escape, so there’s still work to do. You shall continue the investigation with your enforcers, as long as you keep me posted.”

“I understand.”

“Very well. I’ll leave it to you then, Inspector Takahashi.”

Suddenly, Kasei’s entire body lit up with light blue lines, and began to slowly disappear from her feet in a smooth transition. Yashiro lowered her gaze and then turned it back to her, speaking one last time in a raised tone of voice, “It’s not a gift—to cloud hues.”

Kasei smiled with narrowed eyes before disappearing completely. The sound of an ambulance's engine broke through, as it parked in front of the police car. The two black pickup trucks had disappeared. Approaching with her hands in the pockets of her black coat, Yashiro watched a drone move the body of the enforcer Kozuki Ryogo towards the back of the vehicle, with a slight buzzing sound like a flying insect. The last thing she saw was his nose bleeding, a cut on his mouth and a small knife stuck in his lower abdomen. There were red drone lights flashing all around, as well as a paddy wagon parked behind the police car.

“She doesn’t like me,” Yashiro raised her eyebrows for a second, in an oddly cheerful and ironic voice.

Daiki watched her walk towards them until she stopped beside him, not looking either of them in the eye. Katashi glanced at her with wide eyes, then focused on the ambulance narrowing them.

“Well, you’re blunt and extreme and people don’t know how to respond to you,” Daiki shrugged, then looked at her for a few seconds and turned his head to the side, avoiding her sudden gaze. “Sorry.”

“How is he?” she watched the ambulance.

“He had a severe concussion and blood loss. He’ll need surgery, but paramedics believe he’ll pull through,” Katashi folded his arms.

“What about Inspector Aoyanagi?” she asked after a pause.

“She’s in the hospital right now, but she’ll recover. Where did they come from?” Katashi shook his head. “They knew we could track Kozuki through his wristcom. They have tactical resources. I mean, who are these people, and how did Miyake bring them together?”

“I don’t think he did,” Daiki frowned and lowered his head. “They left him behind without even blinking.”

“The PSB landed on them,” Katashi pointed out.

“Yeah, but why would you risk your life helping someone you later get rid of? Some of them got killed for it,” Daiki stretched a hand forward and raised an eyebrow.

“What did they want from him anyways?” Katashi turned his head towards the ambulance, where drones surrounded Kozuki Ryogo.

“An inspector gives them more leverage, yet they chose an enforcer…” Yashiro’s voice trailed off.

“You're thinking like an inspector. Inspectors are so objective. Obligated to protocols,” Makishima frowned, looking at her.

“I’m not sure how he fits,” Yashiro whispered, glancing up for a second and shaking her head.

“Then make it personal. What does he desperately want before he dies? And how does it figure into his plot?” Makishima’s expression and voice became serious at her side.

Yashiro blinked and opened her mouth slightly, still hearing the deep, soothing voice echoing in her head.

“Miyake was captured by Kozuki and me, but I provoked him. He probably wanted me to kill Kozuki, that’s why they took his wristcom off, not only so he wouldn’t be traced, but so the bureau would think he had joined them,” Yashiro spoke quickly, pausing as the enforcers exchanged a glance and looked at her. “But Agawa doesn’t care. He would’ve killed him sooner or later.”

“A killer, like him?” Katashi raised an eyebrow.

“No, he despises men like him,” she blinked a couple of times.

“He shot an ex-girlfriend,” he continued slowly, widening his eyes for a moment. “And murdered another. Are you saying they weren’t innocent?”

“They were threats.”

“So their deaths were justified?”

“Yes. No, I mean, according to him they had to die,” Yashiro averted their puzzled gazes. “Attacking a PSB police car and letting him escape must have been his goal here. He’s demonstrating that the bureau can be breached.”

“All these people… why help him?” Katashi finally asked, looking straight ahead. “How does he get others to do anything for him?”

“Cult mentality,” Yashiro squinted, watching the red lights of the drones. “Most people don't fight for freedom, but for a more comfortable prison. You can’t push them into following you for no reason… you have to learn to listen, and wait for them to come to you for support. That way… you know they’ll depend on you…”

Yashiro remained mute for a long moment, while Katashi raised an eyebrow and nodded deeply, looking at Daiki and then at her one last time, before walking towards the ambulance that was preparing to leave. Suddenly she flinched and opened her eyes wider as something hit her back, near her shoulder. Beside her, Daiki patted her and slowly pulled his arm away, in surrender, when she turned and stared at him with a serious expression, as if he had stuck a knife into her skin instead of simply touching her shoulder, something that made him frown for a few seconds, since she had no social anxiety or any difficulty relating to others.

“Sorry, but you’re doing it again,” he lowered his head and scratched the back of his neck for a moment. “You’re… disassociating. You sounded like somebody else.”

“I got lost… mirroring. Just for a second. That’s all.”

“I’ve never heard anybody speak to Chief Kasei the way you did before.”

“She chewed my ass out… might get suspended over this,” Yashiro nodded. “I was out of line.”

“You were out of your mind. My blood pressure dropped like the first time a teacher shouted my name at school,” Daiki smiled, making her chuckle and look away. “I know it’s a stupid question I shouldn’t ask considering what we do in our job, but are you okay?”

“Do I look different?” Yashiro narrowed her eyes.

“You’ve always been a little different. It’s smart. That way no one ever knows if something’s up with you and doesn’t start asking you questions. But you’ve never killed anyone before… not like this,” his voice was soft, and his eyes were fixed on her with a slight frown.

“Psycho hazards kill people. Good, decent people. Two weeks ago, there was a fire at a concert. Sixteen people died, not because of the roof falling in, but because of the dominators. If Sibyl decides to kill innocent people, it's the right and moral thing to do, and nobody freaks out because it’s all part of Sibyl’s plan,” Yashiro widened her eyes shaking her head. “But if I kill one single person who has committed crimes, it turns out I went too far and everyone loses their minds?”

The enforcer looked at her with wide eyes for several seconds, as she watched some drones at the factory entrance.

“Look… I know I’ve got no right to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do, but… this isn’t going to end well for you,” Daiki’s voice was softer, but clear. “You’re better than us. Don’t let the boss hear you say that.”

Yashiro let out a chuckle, rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and took a deep breath, staring straight ahead with a detached expression and a raised eyebrow.

“I’m going to head over to the hospital,” her voice was low but firm.

“He’ll be in surgery for hours… and Aoyanagi-san hasn’t woken up yet,” he frowned.

“Just to check,” she shrugged and walked past him to the car.

Daiki put his hands in his black pants pockets and turned to her, “You know this wasn’t your fault?”

Yashiro stopped in her tracks, looking at him again.

“That’s not it,” she shook her head. “It’s just—I know hospitals. They’re not nice. Somebody should go check them out, that’s all.”

Daiki raised an eyebrow and smiled. A tall white drone appeared buzzing behind her, and the enforcer's face paled for a few seconds, recalling her words in his mind, however, the drone continued on its way.

#fanfic #psycho pass

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meli-r · 8 months ago

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I was re-reading the last chapters as a warm up but instead of continuing writing the next chapter, I came up with a short new description of Touma's sister when she's found by the police, because I realized the next chapter starts talking about this all of a sudden and I don't like it. I was about to write about butterflies and Touma too but it's something I've done already so I don't want to tire you out with repetition xD

*****

As the sun bathed the park in a warm embrace, casting long, languid shadows across the ground, a figure emerged from the midst of the bustling crowd. Inspector Aoyanagi Risa strode forward with purpose, her presence commanding attention amidst the chaos. Towering over the throng, she possessed a statuesque stature, her slender but fit frame exuding an air of confidence and capability. With her brown eyes sharp and attentive, and her hair styled into a blunt cut with side bangs to the right, she seemed every bit the embodiment of authority.

“This is Inspector Aoyanagi Risa,” her voice resonated through the park, crisp and authoritative, transmitted through her wristcom. The holographic communicator glowed softly over her wrist, a silent witness to the unfolding scene. “Yes, I’ve confirmed it. A girl who appears to be underage is hanging from the stage of an idol concert being held in Chiyoda Public Park.”

Security drones darted around the stage scanning every corner of the scene, while holographic barriers shimmered and swirled, warding off the prying eyes of curious onlookers.

“Yes,” Aoyanagi continued, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the scene before her, her attention divided between the display and the conversation in her ear. “She has wings on her back and a drape from her waist like a stage costume. Kozuki-kun, take her down quickly.”

Kozuki Ryogo, typically the jovial soul of the team, now bore a solemn countenance as he strode towards the stage, his movements purposeful and measured. His blue eyes, usually alight with mischief, now held a fierce determination. His colleagues exchanged puzzled glances, but they followed his lead.

"What?" Aoyanagi's voice crackled through the earpiece. "There's no way she's alive.” Her brow furrowed in concentration as she observed the girl hanging limply from the stage.

“We want to take a look at it,” she insisted. “I'll have to do more research, but her wings appear to be skin drapes stripped from her back. It was probably disassembled along the musculature. It appears to be a thigh, radiating out from the base.”

The scene unfolded like a meticulously crafted masterpiece, its every detail akin to the delicate wings of a butterfly awaiting to spread its beauty under the azure sky and the warm embrace of the sun.

Redemption v2.15

Yashiro moved through the halls of Oso Academy, a bastion of tradition and formality. The architecture intertwined modern elements with classical grandeur, while students navigated in their distinct uniforms.

Rounding a corner, Yashiro entered the teachers' lounge. In her hands, she held a bundle of documents and a steaming cup of coffee. Touma's presence caught her eye as he occupied a table, his gesture silently beckoning her. She hesitated for a fleeting moment before making her way to him.

"Business to attend to?" Touma glanced at the folder in her hand, his tone momentarily wistful. His hands rested on the table, fingers entwined, as though afraid she might slip away.

"Just a minor task with a staff member," Yashiro replied, her voice calm and measured.

"Why not join us?" Touma's hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him.

Her gaze shifted to the man opposite Touma, his white hair cascading across his chest. She looked away, as if about to decline the invitation.

"Perhaps another time," Yashiro responded.

"Do you know Aoki Chiyo?" Touma's question sliced through the air, catching Yashiro's attention.

"Only by reputation," Yashiro acknowledged, her brows furrowing slightly.

"She's the secretary's daughter," Touma continued, his gaze fixed upon her.

“And?”

"Word is, she was assaulted along with two friends in a restroom," Touma explained.

“I see.”

"Ended up in the infirmary with wrist pain," he added.

"Good," Yashiro retorted tersely, her eyes reflecting a detached mixture of emotions.

"Did you hear about it?" Touma's gaze remained fixed on her, his words probing for a reaction.

"No," Yashiro confirmed, her expression unreadable.

"Got nothing to do with it?" Touma's inquiry delved deeper, seeking to unearth any connection.

"If you're suggesting I had a hand in it, why not simply report me?" Yashiro's tone held a trace of defiance.

"Because I know that's what you want, I won't," Touma replied calmly, leaning back in his chair.

Makishima, a silent observer thus far, interjected, “I am sure whatever she has done, she did so with a conviction she deemed righteous.”

Yashiro's frown deepened, her gaze shifting to Makishima's poised figure.

“I don't doubt that. My intention is to underscore the ripple effect of actions on one's future. Fortunately, your anonymity shielded you this time. Had they recognized you, I would have found myself in the principal's office once again, striving to safeguard your interests," Touma stated.

"I've never asked for your protection," Yashiro retorted, her voice edged with a touch of frustration.

"Are you aware that your actions could result in expulsion?" Touma's question held a sense of gravity.

"Yes."

"This could be the end," Touma observed, his expression a medley of concern and reprimand.

"So be it," she replied.

"What's going on?" Touma's expression furrowed, casting a shadow of concern across his features. Yashiro's eyes briefly avoided his gaze as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. "You've never been one to conform, but the past few months? The truancy, the wandering. Can't you see where this is going? Allow me to offer clarity—to give you the truth."

"What?" Yashiro's exhalation carried a mix of curiosity and resignation, as she settled into a chair opposite Makishima, a silent observer from the periphery. Her posture eased as her gaze meandered to her untouched coffee cup, an anchor amidst the unfolding discourse.

"You're smart, so smart yet endearingly naive," Touma shook his head, his words evoking a flicker of a smile from her. "The Aokis of the world will always exist, and the girl you aided? She'll take shitty orders from people who will probably be Aoki. Much like she's doing now. And that will be her life from now on until her hue gets clouded and she ends up in a cell or gets killed by the police. That's her life. You keep acting like this, it'll be yours," he paused, reaching for her coffee cup. "That's a path ahead of you. A life of servitude. But there's another," he pulled a black cell phone out of his pants pocket, placing it alongside her coffee.

Yashiro's gaze flickered between Touma's intense stare and the device he had placed before her.

"A life infused with the power to steer the course of events," Touma continued, his voice measured yet brimming with conviction. "You see, existence is often defined by two prevailing modes: the desire to shape events or the acquiescence to their shaping. The orchestrator or the orchestrated. The catalyst or the reaction. Do you truly think you can transcend this fundamental duality?"

Yashiro met Touma's gaze, her countenance a blend of contemplation and determination.

"What if I were to reject both?" her voice remained steady.

Touma's eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle yet cryptic smile touching his lips.

"Choice is often a mirror to the soul," he responded, leaning back in his chair. "When presented with two options, people are driven to concoct excuses or introduce additional alternatives, a defense mechanism against acknowledging their own inclinations or confronting the fear of judgment.”

Makishima ventured a subtle smile, his gaze flitting between the interlocutors.

"And you think you know me well enough to draw such conclusions?" Yashiro's gaze hardened.

Touma leaned in, his demeanor unwavering, his voice a calm stream infused with certainty, "Perhaps I do. But let's simplify matters, shall we? A simple choice: the cup or the phone."

Yashiro's gaze danced between the two objects, a pendulum oscillating between competing futures. Her mind danced upon the precipice of comprehension.

"Ah, the purity of your intent,” Touma's voice tinged with a rueful undercurrent. “Yet when thrust into this dichotomy, most are drawn to the latter."

"And what do you think my choice would be?" Yashiro's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you’ve already made your choice," Touma's smile deepened, his fingers lightly tapping the black phone on the table. "Your unspoken admission lies right here, in this unassuming device."

Yashiro's lips parted, her gaze shifting towards the phone.

“Why?” her voice wavered.

Touma's smile evolved into a knowing grin, "For the intricacies of humanity seldom align with the canvas of pristine integrity. Given the opportunity, men are often drawn to power, whether brazenly acknowledged or subtly veiled beneath layers of moral rationalization."

"Is that your belief?"

Touma leaned closer.

"I believe that when faced with the right circumstances, men would choose the path that grants them authority, even if they resist acknowledging it. I've posed this question to others, and interestingly, they've all arrived at the same choice. It underscores the intricate complexities of human nature—a truth that even the purest of souls, such as yourself, cannot fully escape."

“You may perceive the world through that lens, but it remains a perspective that eludes my understanding,” Yashiro exhaled softly, her gaze drifting from his to the phone.

"Time will be the arbiter of your resolve," Touma concluded.

"May I have my coffee back?" Yashiro's request carried an air of detachment, an attempt to reclaim the moment from its weighty implications.

Touma returned the coffee cup to her.

"Compassion has often been regarded as a vulnerability," he mused softly.

"No," Yashiro responded, her gaze steady. "I've never seen it that way."

"I've found little use for it," Touma shrugged.

"Because you're a narcissist," Yashiro remarked, taking a sip of coffee and looking away, her tone tinged with a blend of familiarity and exasperation.

Touma met her assertion with a discerning gaze, an unspoken exchange that lingered beyond the spoken word. Makishima's eyebrows arched for a fraction of a second, a subtle shift in his contemplation.

“I know little of narcissism, but labels rarely capture the full essence of a person. You of all people know that well,” Touma observed, his fingers tracing patterns upon the table's surface.

"The concept of equality often intertwines with discussions of power, doesn't it?” Makishima's voice interjected, his tone measured.

Yashiro's gaze shifted between Touma and Makishima, her interest piqued by the shift in conversation.

"Equality, an aspiration that has driven societies for centuries,” Touma expounded, his eyes tracing an invisible path along the ceiling. “I’d run away from anyone who starts talking about it faster than from the plague.”

“Don't you think there's a big difference between treating humans equally and forcing them to be?" Makishima asked.

"Hayek said that the first is the condition of a free society while the second is serfdom," Touma affirmed.

"A distinction that becomes particularly poignant when examined through the lens of governance and authority,” Makishima added.

"A sentiment that resonates even more profoundly in a world shaped by Sibyl," Touma continued.

"The Sibyl System, a manifestation of centralized control, enforces a uniformity that disregards individuality. The force that aims to create equality can inadvertently strip away freedom," elucidated Makishima.

“The path towards coerced equality often leads to the erosion of individual freedom. The very force introduced with seemingly noble intentions can ultimately become a tool wielded by those with ulterior motives,” Touma concurred.

"Equality, a cornerstone enshrined within the principles of justice—equality before the law, unalienable rights bound to one's humanity. These tenets, immune to manipulation by constructs like titles or stratified categories. It's interesting how some interpret equality differently, transforming it into a concept that transcends the political sphere and ventures into the metaphysical realm," Yashiro interjected, her words punctuated by a sip of coffee.

Makishima's lips parted, a single eyebrow raised, his gaze weaving between Yashiro and Touma.

"But this alternate interpretation challenges the very laws of nature," she continued. "It strives not for equality before the law, but for an equality of attributes and personal virtues, disregarding the inherent variability of individual nature and choices. In a world where nature bestows beauty and intelligence unequally, and individual volition leads to diverse choices, these proponents of equality seek to challenge the very fabric of reality. They aim not to rectify injustice within man-made institutions, but to reshape the course of natural causality itself. It relates to the altruism we discussed earlier, but the core intent remains just beyond my grasp.”

"Yashiro, investing your time in understanding such folly might prove futile. Instead, consider what you stand to gain from it," Touma advised.

Yashiro inhaled, her gaze shifting momentarily to the phone before returning to her coffee cup resting on the table.

“Interesting,” Makishima mused, shaking his head slightly.

“What?” Touma's gaze shifted to Makishima, curiosity etching lines on his face.

"At times, your discourse assumes the tenor of a classical libertarian, yet in others, the resonance of a socialist. An intriguing blend that's not indicative of a lack of identity, as one might initially conclude," Makishima noted, his words punctuated by a subtle upward twitch of his lips.

"I value your insight. It delivers the very confirmation I sought—the affirmation I needed," Touma replied.

"Affirmation for what?" Makishima raised an eyebrow.

"Labels are mere tools. The realm of politics is devoid of absolute ideologies. Your inability to fathom that isn't surprising, given your historical indifference to political matters," Touma elucidated.

“Precisely,” Makishima concurred.

"Imagine if you possessed a bit more of her discernment," Touma gestured towards Yashiro. "You might have asked, what of those at the pinnacle?"

"I possess no inclination to delve into the perspective of the collectivists," Makishima admitted.

"Comprehensive understanding emerges only when one can traverse both sides of the coin. The fortitude of our convictions alone often falls short. It's the capacity to engage with counter viewpoints that genuinely empowers us. In its absence, our preferences rest on shaky ground. It's not solely about listening to sources that reinforce our beliefs, steeped in their own perspectives. It's about confronting those beliefs firsthand, in their most compelling and persuasive manifestations, even when championed by those who ardently embrace them," Touma expounded.

“Sounds like John Stuart Mill,” Makishima's eyes narrowed.

“Indeed,” Touma smiled, his gaze ascending towards the ceiling. “Ultimately, as Sowell suggests, politics often entails the art of translating personal desires into a national agenda—a stark reminder of the intricate layers concealed within seemingly noble causes."

"Sowell's observation extends to those who forget their mortal limitations, mistaking themselves for gods," Yashiro mused.

Makishima's raised eyebrow invoked a knowing smile from Touma, a fleeting chuckle tracing its way from his lips, harmonizing with the spark that danced within his eyes.

“I'll fetch our drinks. Would you like anything?” Makishima's voice carried a soft undertone as he stood, casting a contemplative gaze at Yashiro.

“No, thank you,” Yashiro waved her hand in polite refusal.

Makishima's gaze lingered, capturing the tableau of the moment, before he turned and navigated through empty tables to retrieve their beverages.

“He doesn’t know what you’re capable of,” Yashiro's voice held a pensive edge, her gaze tracing Makishima's distant figure as he conversed with another educator.

“Neither do you,” Touma's tone deepened, his demeanor assuming a more serious bearing as he leaned forward, forearms resting on the table.

Yashiro's frown echoed her thoughts, flickering between Touma and Makishima. With a barely perceptible smile on his lips, Touma's contemplative gaze held her gaze. Makishima, tray in hand, engaged in dialogue with a fellow teacher before pivoting back towards them. Touma's smile expanded momentarily, an arc of recognition illuminating his features, but a veneer of solemnity returned as Makishima approached.

“Have you come across the latest headlines?” Makishima began, his gaze oscillating briefly between Touma and Yashiro, as he handed out the beverages and pastries. "The scandal involving the esteemed politician Ryoji Hashida."

"I've heard allegations of falsified psycho pass, accusations of corruption, and the spectacle of dodging media inquiries with convenient amnesia," Yashiro remarked, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

She had indeed seen the news reports, the lurid details of Hashida's alleged corruption and the subsequent public outcry. His death had sent shockwaves through the nation, leaving a trail of questions and speculation in its wake.

"The court of public opinion was swift and merciless," continued Makishima. "Hashida's fall from grace, his once-pristine reputation now irrevocably tarnished. A man who managed to defy the system, wielding deception and influence to sidestep justice. And yet, his eventual exposure was not orchestrated by the veneer of authority, but by the very flaws embedded within his design. The wielders of power, it seems, remain susceptible to the snares of hubris."

"Perhaps this isn't the result of political terrorism, as some speculate. It carries a distinctly personal undercurrent," Yashiro mumbled, a shake of her head punctuating her words as she focused on the table.

"How can you discern that?" Makishima's query was punctuated by the crunch of a madeleine.

"The imagery of the crime scene, its meticulous arrangement, akin to a grotesque work of human art," Yashiro explained. Her gaze shifted from the table to Touma's phone, then to the space nestled between his black vest and white shirt, where a red tie found its home.

“Elaborate,” Touma's voice held a note of gravity, his gaze lowering.

"The removal of his brain, paired with the insertion of the hippocampus into his anus—a surreal, artistic tableau. Witnesses who stood in its presence mistook it for a holographic creation," Yashiro clarified, her words echoing with a haunting elegance. “I can't help but ponder the message hidden within. Although, for optimal reconnaissance, I would have chosen a different location—perhaps a bustling square or even right in front of the Public Safety Bureau itself? Imagine the maelstrom of media frenzy that would ensue," Yashiro's eyes widened as her thoughts raced.

"What is the underlying message?" Makishima inquired.

“Remember now?” her voice was softer.

"A promising detective in the making," Touma quipped, a wry smile forming as he sipped his coffee.

“No, that’s… that’s not it. I’m just curious. I think this guy is a meticulous craftsman, well-versed in the domains of surgery and chemistry. This is likely not his maiden voyage into the realm of murder, nor will it be his last. Monetary gain seems to hold little sway over him. But I don’t know. I’m not a cop,” Yashiro's fingers played with her cup, a thoughtful ballet of movement.

"Let's hope this isn't his grand finale," Touma's voice was measured as he set his cup down.

"Why?" Yashiro's gaze locked onto his.

"Because, in the process of unraveling this enigma, a certain vigor and vitality radiate from you," Touma's voice trailed off as he appraised her features, a subtle shake of his head accompanying his words. "It's a rarity—a sight of you truly alive."

"Is that necessarily a positive trait?" Yashiro's voice wavered, her eyes shifting downward.

"Perhaps. Yet, the ultimate judgment rests with you alone. What's your perspective?" Touma's inquiry sought to breach her inner reflections.

"I feel like I'm gradually losing my bearings. My mind is incessantly plagued by alternate realities—what if Hashida, my parents… if events had woven a different tapestry. I'm uncertain if this influx of emotions is a harbinger of positivity. I question whether my sentiments are anchored in rightness," she confessed, her gaze oscillating between her cup and the figures of Touma and Makishima.

“This isn't a riddle I can decipher for you. I can only sit here alongside you and listen,” Touma's voice was a calm reassurance, a beacon of companionship.

Yashiro sighed in acceptance, a nod punctuating her understanding. A fleeting moment of her eyes being closed embraced her before she rose, gathering her folder and cup.

"I'll remain vigilant for any updates," she remarked, her words carrying a sense of purpose.

Touma's head dipped slightly, his gaze lingering on the vacant seat she had occupied. Yashiro cast them one final glance, a trace of a smile gracing her lips before she departed.

"How close do you think she truly is?" Makishima's inquiry was laced with speculation, his attention shifting to Touma.

"Pretty close. Yet the narrative is far from its conclusion. This may kindle a renewed fire within her," Touma mused, his gaze tracing Yashiro's departure.

#psychopass

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