Psycho Pass: Redemption (UPDATING)

17 (UPDATED)

Yashiro stood in an operating theater flooded by a harsh, blinding light. Ryoji Hashida lay strapped to a table, his eyes wide with terror as he struggled futilely against his restraints. The cold, weighty scalpel in her hand gleamed in the unforgiving brightness.

Beside her, Touma's grip enveloped her wrist, guiding her hand with a gentle force. The scalpel descended toward Hashida's skull, eliciting muffled screams that reverberated through the air. Yashiro's heart raced as the blade cleaved through flesh and bone with precision, releasing a river of blood that painted a tableau.

Hashida's struggles grew weaker, his life force gradually ebbing away. Yashiro's movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as the crimson tide flowed freely. With a final, decisive incision, a rush of power surged through her.

Hashida's lifeless form now adorned the table like a masterpiece. Yashiro turned to Touma, her eyes meeting his. The darkness that had clouded her mind seemed to dissipate, leaving behind an eerie calmness.

The sterile theater transformed, melting into an opulent dining setting. Yashiro and Touma sat across from each other, bathed in the soft flicker of candlelight. Crystal goblets cradled in their hands contained a deep red liquid that shimmered like rubies.

As they raised their glasses in a silent toast, the clinking sound reverberated like an echo. Yashiro brought the glass to her lips, tasting the metallic tang of the liquid on her tongue—a reminder that it was not wine she was sipping, but blood. Touma's lips curled into a smile as he drank from his own glass.

With a jolting gasp, Yashiro snapped awake, her body drenched in a cold sweat that clung to her like a suffocating shroud. She pushed herself upright, her muscles taut with tension. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she allowed her feet to touch the cool floor, sending a shiver up her spine.

Tremors coursed through her body, and she wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to dispel the lingering chill that clung to her skin. The room swayed as a wave of dizziness washed over her, prompting her to clutch the wall for support. Nausea churned within her, threatening to engulf her senses.

With her eyes tightly shut, Yashiro focused on her breath, drawing slow, deliberate inhalations that gradually calmed her racing heart. The nauseating sensation subsided, replaced by a lingering sense of discomfort.

Pushing herself away from the wall, Yashiro steadied herself, the room slowly coming back into focus. The dim light filtering through the curtains painted a gentle, ethereal glow. Her gaze shifted around the room, her surroundings familiar yet cast in a slightly different light.

Standing by the window, her fingers brushed against the fabric of the curtains, and she stared out at the delicate hues of the dawning sky. The remnants of the nightmarish vision loosened their grip, the dizziness fading, and Yashiro found herself standing resolute—a survivor of her own mind.

The grand hall of the academy buzzed with life, its lights gently flickering and conversations forming a soothing murmur. The anniversary celebration was in full swing, a blend of parents, students, and faculty members mingling in harmony.

Touma's once-disinterested gaze roamed aimlessly around the room until it was captivated by the sight of Kirino Touko's obsidian locks cascading gracefully down her back. She entered the room, accompanied by her father, a towering figure who was an honored guest at the school's anniversary: Altoromagi Abele. As she separated from her father, her warm smile illuminated the room, casting a radiant glow on all in her presence.