Psycho Pass: Redemption (UPDATING)

15 (UPDATED)

"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."