"In Act III, Scene I, Hamlet pondered to be, or not to be: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them. To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
The city lights flickered disorderly on the horizon, while skyscrapers rose above them, enveloping them in the cold embrace of dawn. Touma Kouzaburou's eyes blinked softly until they closed, as the deep, serene voice of the man beside him seemed distant, as if the wind rustling through their hair carried away his words.
"Shougo-kun," Touma uttered, his voice barely a whisper, "you spoke of a painting as the expression of a painter's life. Do you believe my life deserves such an expression?"
"Yes," Makishima Shougo replied calmly, his voice resonating in the stillness of the night.
"Is it an honest opinion?"
"It's my sincerest opinion, Touma. My definitive opinion, no matter what may befall us or this world in the future."
Touma watched as Makishima paced the terrace of the building, his stance firm and assured, as if he were in harmony with the skyscrapers towering above them. The way he stood, with arms at his sides and gaze fixed on the horizon, left Touma slightly agape.
With Makishima's words lingering in the air, both turned their attention to their surroundings. The skyscrapers seemed to touch the sky, their lights twinkling like urban stars in the night. Below, in the lavish garden of a restaurant, Hashida Ryoji's body lay like a piece of art, defying sanity and morality with its presence.
The elevator was enveloped in an immense, gray cloud of smoke, its scent of tobacco suffocating those unaccustomed to its presence. As they waited, the rickety platform ascended at a snail's pace, its creaks echoing the building's neglect. The area, a decaying low-income neighborhood, was off limits to security drones.
"This place is a real downer. After we nab this guy, let's grab some beers, my treat. What do you say, Ko?" Sasayama suggested, his voice deep.
He blew a puff of smoke, forming abstract shapes in the air. Kougami coughed and brushed away the smoke with his hand, a move that elicited a chuckle from Sasayama. When their gazes met, they exchanged smiles.
"Focus on the job first," Kougami cautioned, eyes fixed on the elevator door.
When the elevator finally halted, the door opened with a brief tremor. Kougami stepped forward, followed by Sasayama, who sighed and dropped his cigarette without bothering to snuff it out. Discarded butts littered the ground, while empty alcohol bottles tumbled from overflowing trash cans. The stench of urine grew stronger as they navigated the alley, encountering only hidden figures—especially those carrying a dominator.
Before them stood a dilapidated apartment building. Since the elevator was out of order, they opted for the stairs. Their footfalls reverberated in the dingy environment, but it was a distant thud that caught their attention. Sasayama raised an eyebrow, head turning in the direction of the sound, while Kougami remained vigilant.
The sharp shatter of glass was followed by a feminine moan of pain, then silence. Sasayama's frown deepened as he rushed forward, flinging open a door. Kougami followed, dominator in hand.
Inside the room, a man with his shirt half-open loomed over a young blonde woman. Her lips trembled, eyes darting between the man and Sasayama. A bottle of alcohol in his hand, the man threatened to strike her, but upon spotting Sasayama, he stood up, shoving her aside.
The cacophony of screams—whether from the man or Sasayama—drowned out Kougami's shout. In a corner, the young woman huddled against the wall, traumatized by the brutal spectacle before her. Kougami aimed his dominator at her to assess her psycho pass.
Crime coefficient is 182. Enforcement mode is Non-Lethal Paralyzer. Aim calmly and subdue the target.
The number climbed rapidly. While the girl was now safe, the scene had paralyzed her. Sasayama's fists clouded her hue. Kougami fired, and she slumped, unconscious, her body curled in a fetal position.
"Sasayama!" Kougami's cry was muffled by the relentless onslaught.
Kougami lunged forward, struggling to pry Sasayama away from the man. After a final shove, Sasayama relented.
"That's enough," Kougami declared, positioning himself between the enforcer and the suspect.
He aimed his dominator at the man, whose coughs splattered blood on the floor. Despite the man's high crime coefficient due to child abuse, the shot rendered him immobile.
Sasayama, fists clenched and breathing heavily, paced the living room. Kougami surveyed the bloody, unrecognizable face of the aggressor and mused that the man would likely fear another encounter with Sasayama more than a dominator.
"We were just getting acquainted," Sasayama clicked his tongue, running his hand through his hair.
"You certainly have a way with people," Kougami commented.
Sasayama averted his gaze, hands on hips.
"That's not a man—that's a beast," he gestured towards the fallen figure. "You can't reason with beasts. Sooner or later, he'll get drunk and abuse his daughter again, spouting that 'it's the alcohol's fault, but I'm a good guy' nonsense."
"Let's hope your lesson keeps him in the hospital for a while."
"Today, going against the law or succumbing to stress amounts to death. Quick, cheap solutions—futile. You know what the real problem is? People. When he's released, he'll probably try to kill her," Sasayama muttered.
Kougami's brow furrowed. A ringing call diverted their attention. Kougami tapped his wrist communicator, projecting Ginoza's holographic face.
"Found the suspect?" Ginoza inquired.
Sasayama's arms were about to cross, but he stopped when he noticed his bloodied fists. He let them hang at his sides, shaking his hands in frustration. Kougami glanced at the battered man sprawled on the floor, then shifted his gaze to Sasayama before responding to Ginoza.
"We managed to paralyze him and his daughter," Kougami reported, eyeing the unconscious girl.
"Good. When you're finished, head to Iyasaka Traditional Restaurant. We have a case," Ginoza ordered.
"On our way," Kougami confirmed.
Sasayama retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, "Looks like those beers will have to wait."
After apprehending the man and his daughter, Kougami and Sasayama proceeded to the designated restaurant. The silence between them was palpable. Upon arrival, they found the establishment shuttered, security drones guarding the perimeter.
"This is the Criminal Investigation Department, part of the Public Safety Bureau," a drone's feminine voice announced. "Access to this area is restricted for security purposes."
Kougami shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth. They displayed their IDs, and the drone cleared their passage. Ahead, Ginoza's tall figure loomed.
"Finally decided to show up," Ginoza remarked, adjusting his glasses.
Clad in a dark suit, his short black hair framed his face. Sasayama smirked, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
"Good to see you, too," Sasayama quipped.
"I'll take you to the crime scene," Ginoza stated, briefly meeting their eyes before leading the way.
Sasayama looked at Kougami and shrugged his shoulders. They reached the restaurant's front lawn, where an astonishing sight awaited them. Kougami halted abruptly, his eyes widening. Sasayama's cigarette dropped from his mouth. Speech eluded them both as they beheld the remarkable tableau before them—a masterpiece that defied belief.
"Promotion strategies are getting quite artistic," Sasayama mused, gaze fixed on the surreal display.
"The victim is Ryoji Hashida, discovered by Anna Nakamichi of the Akasaka Waste Management Bureau," Ginoza informed. "Time of death is uncertain, though it coincided with Hashida's encounter with Mitsuru Ishihara, a member of the National Diet. The plastination process complicates the timeline. The overall stress level in the area surged by four degrees. The media is under strict censorship."
Kougami advanced, studying the meticulously preserved body. The skull bore a clean incision, the brain completely removed. The hippocampus, pivotal for memory, had been surreally transposed into the anus. Sasayama leaned in, inspecting the corpse closely.
"Whoever did this is certainly eager to gauge the audience's reaction," a deep voice remarked from behind.
They turned, facing Masaoka Tomomi. Clad in a light brown trench coat, he exuded an air of calm. A small smile played on his lips as he met Ginoza's gaze, momentarily shifting his attention to the grim spectacle.