Seated on the plush leather couch, Touma immersed himself in the ambient allure of the nightclub. The electronic beats reverberated through the air, synchronizing with the pulsating hues of black and violet that enveloped the space. He took a sip of wine, trying to anchor himself in the present, amidst the whispers of an online forum dissecting Altoromagi Abele's murder.
"It's a tragedy what happened to that man," remarked the woman beside him, her voice slicing through the pulsating ambiance. "I hope the police catch the culprit soon."
Touma shifted his attention, lowering his phone and glass, his gaze narrowing as it meticulously traversed the lines of her figure. Her attire, a harmonious blend of simplicity and allure, caught his eye—a knee-length skirt and a tastefully fitted blouse, the soft pastel hues complementing the vibrant atmosphere. His scrutiny lingered on her expressive brown eyes and the straight, black curtain of hair that framed her face with sophistication.
"What?" A fleeting smile played on her lips as she rose, striding confidently toward him. "Don't shoot me that look."
"What look?" Touma dismissed her comment with a nonchalant wave, placing his phone and glass on the petite table nestled between the couches.
The woman gracefully seated herself on his lap, leaning in, her hands resting delicately on his shoulders. Touma mirrored the gesture, placing a hand on the nape of her neck, his expression briefly tinged with curiosity. Her fingers glided down his chest, tracing the contours beneath his dark red dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows and open at the neck, revealing the well-defined lines of his slim physique.
The air was infused with an alluring mix of fragrances; she exuded a delicate perfume, leaving a trail of sweet floral notes that complemented the vibrant atmosphere. However, a subtle undercurrent of alcohol lingered in the air, a testament to the wine they had both been enjoying.
Lost in thought, Touma's fingers brushed unconsciously against the tips of her black hair. The strands carried a familiar weight, awakening a cascade of memories that danced at the edge of his consciousness—a silent echo of something concealed, yet profoundly significant.
Her fingers traced an absent-minded pattern on Touma's chest as she studied his contemplative expression. In the dim glow of the nightclub's ambient lights, the elegance in her movements became more pronounced. "You've got that look again, Kouzaburou. The one that says there's more on your mind than meets the eye."
Touma's demeanor remained tranquil, his eyes betraying a depth of thoughts. "What do you mean?"
A wisp of her fragrant perfume lingered in the air as she leaned in, her gaze unwavering. "You haven't asked any girl to dance by sitting alone, looking at a picture, and sipping wine, like an old man remembering the world before Sibyl."
Touma's response resonated with calm intensity. "Silence, as a way to disconnect from this world, is increasingly scarce."
"I hate silence. Who likes uncomfortable silences?"
Recalling the panoramic view of Tokyo's skyscrapers from his apartment, Touma let a fleeting memory cross his mind. However, it was not this view or his expansive living space that diverted his gaze from the woman before him; it was the image of another, younger woman seated on the sofa in his apartment.
Many times, when they were together, they spoke little and almost never about themselves. It was not a silence of anger but of a delicate understanding too profound for words. They walked for hours without a fixed destination, and Touma could not recall what phrases had been exchanged. It felt as if they never spoke. The serenity they shared was their medium of communication.
Sometimes he paused, observing her way of walking, turning her head, or leaning on a railing. He noticed the way she stood with her head held high, a posture of strength, effortlessly maintained energy—a moment that gave her body the structural sharpness of the skyscrapers in front of her. Touma was not looking at her; he was contemplating something larger than her—himself.
When they exchanged glances, their eyes conveyed that nothing needed to be expressed. Touma felt as if she were speaking. When they did talk, it was with the simple confidence that had grown between them over the last three years. She would gaze at him as always, listening with a look that held tenderness without mockery and sadness without mercy.
From his perspective, Yashiro should have been in misery, and three years ago, he had assumed she would be expelled from Oso Academy. Instead, she was entering university in a few months. He enjoyed watching her rest; he wanted to teach her to laze around like an unworthy millionaire.
Sometimes he caught her in Oso Academy's library doing schoolwork minutes before class started or studying for an exam. Touma knew she had obtained a special permit for part-time work and tried to balance study and work. He never told anyone that she jumped over the school's back wall to arrive early. He enjoyed watching her run, her figure cutting through the sea of calm faces.
"It's natural to fear the unknown and hate what we cannot control," Touma paused, narrowing his eyes and gazing up at the ceiling. "Silence often reveals human virtues and vices. It has also made me more fascinated by the minds rather than the bodies in which they are imprisoned."
A brief silence followed, accentuated by the pulsating rhythms of the music.
"You've changed," she leaned back with a smile, her fingers idly tapping on the crystal glass she held. "Did you know that picking up someone's mannerisms is sometimes akin to falling in love?"
"That's certainly possible."
The play of light and shadow accentuated the contours of her features as she continued. "What is that person to you?"
"A cilice," Touma responded with a measured tone, his eyes meeting hers.
As Touma observed the rhythmic dance of lights in the dim-lit nightclub, his gaze was momentarily drawn to a distant figure. A man rose from one of the barstools, his silhouette weaving through the pulsating crowd, a lingering trace of alcohol in his wake. Excusing himself from her, citing the need to check on a friend, Touma discreetly trailed the solitary figure through the shifting sea of people.
Beyond the immediate reach of the nightclub's ambiance, Touma pursued the man through the exit, his steps purposeful and resolute. The city lights spilled onto the street, casting elongated shadows that danced with the night. Touma's curiosity about this lone figure intensified as he moved further away from the lively throb of the club.
The distant cityscape provided an ethereal backdrop to Touma's pursuit, the contrast between the vibrant nightlife and the solitary figure becoming more pronounced. The man continued his solitary journey, occasionally illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps or the flickering neon signs of nearby establishments.
Touma quickened his pace, the echo of their footsteps merging with the city's nocturnal symphony. As he closed the distance, subtle details about the man became clearer—the gentle sway in his steps, the occasional glance over his shoulder, and the contemplative air that surrounded him.
Approaching a more secluded area, Touma finally caught up with the solitary figure. The man turned, acknowledging Touma's presence with a mix of surprise and guarded curiosity. The distant sounds of the nightclub faded, replaced by the distant hum of the city.
"Shimizu-san, I noticed you at the bar tonight," Touma smiled, extending a bottle of alcohol. "It was quite an unexpected sight. You should've given me a heads-up; we could have shared a drink."
"It's not really my scene," Shimizu Jiro replied, deflecting the friendly invitation. "Himari is going to be mad at me."
"Your wife doesn't know you're here? Well, that's all right. Any man needs a certain level of alienation from this crazy world to remain sane. You went to Altoromagi's funeral, too. I didn't know you two were close. I'm so sorry."
"Ah, yes, it was a hard blow. He and I were school friends. Unfortunately, we lost touch for a while."
"It's a pity. Death always surprises us, doesn't it? How have you been handling it all?"
"Well, it's been difficult. At least the police are keeping me busy."
"The police? Have they called you for a statement or anything like that again?"
"Yes, I had an interview with them after the funeral. They're investigating the Altoromagi case."
"Did they ask you anything in particular?"
"Just the routine questions, I guess. Things about our relationship, if I knew anything unusual, you know."
"Interesting. The police can sometimes jump to the wrong conclusions, don't you think?"
"Yes, that's true. Sometimes things aren't what they seem."
"They talked about me, didn't they?"
"Uh, well, yes. About you and everyone at the meeting. One of them kept talking about how you weren't there for charity projects but for Altoromagi's daughter."
"Well, that's a pretty serious accusation. And what did you tell them?"
"That it was crazy and that they should be ashamed to make those kinds of assumptions without any evidence."
"You are such a good friend. I'm in so much debt to you."
"Gosh, don't mention it. Right. She even had the nerve to tell me that you are a murderer and a criminal and that if you ran into me I should call the police. It's like a witch hunt."
"It is, isn't it? Who told you that?"
"The student in your class you're always talking about."
"Takahashi?" Touma paused, raising an eyebrow and approaching the railing in front of the river.
"After everything that happened with the scandal at the school, she comes to give ethics lessons to the police and to me as if we don't already have a Sibyl System for that. It's ridiculous. Good thing she was suspended. I don't understand how they didn't kick her out."
"When was this encounter?"
"After the funeral. The inspectors wanted to talk to us. It seems Takahashi-san has a big imagination and passion, as did you, Touma-kun."
"Qualities no longer valued in this world. Tell me, Shimizu-san, do you agree with her?"
"Pardon? No... of course not," Shimizu replied with a slight hesitation in his voice that made Touma's eyes narrow. "I was considering talking to the principal about her. Maybe get her expelled once and for all. Knowing this, the principal won't hesitate now."
"That would be a mistake," Touma's voice echoed in the narrow alley.
Suddenly, Shimizu clutched his neck as Touma's arm constricted around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. Panic widened Shimizu's eyes as he fought back, pushing Touma towards the railing. In a twist of bodies and a struggle for control, Shimizu managed to unbalance Touma, sending them both tumbling backward.
Kicking and hitting, Shimizu's hand found something pointed on the ground. With desperate determination, he attempted to drive it into Touma's leg. Touma, agile and evasive, managed to avoid the strike, but the grip on Shimizu's neck loosened. An elbow to the face elicited a groan from Touma, and Shimizu seized the opportunity to crawl away, gasping for breath.
As Shimizu staggered through the labyrinthine alleyways, the city's shadows deepened, and distant street lights intermittently cast eerie pools of light. The acrid scent of smoke from nearby factories added an unsettling layer to the atmosphere. Shimizu's breath formed small clouds in the cold night air, each exhalation a testament to his exhaustion.
In the twisting alleys, Shimizu's senses dulled by alcohol, he stumbled and faltered. The cityscape blurred, and each glance over his shoulder heightened his paranoia. The hum of traffic and echoing footsteps played tricks on his intoxicated mind.
His labored breaths echoed desperation, the maze seemingly endless. Gasping for air, Shimizu stumbled, sharp pain in his knees eliciting a groan. Trembling hands struggled to maintain control. His cell phone clattered to the ground, and he crawled towards it, determined to regain his footing.
Suddenly, a wooden plank swung towards him, aiming for his head. Dodging narrowly, he teetered on the edge. Desperation fueled his next move as he lunged at Touma with the pen. In a swift response, Touma seized Shimizu by the neck, thwarting the pen's intended strike. Restrained, Shimizu was spun around and forcefully hurled several meters away, rolling across the ground until colliding with a stack of crates.
Grimacing and writhing slowly, the fallen pen lay nearby, along with his shattered cell phone. Hands trembled as Shimizu opened his palms, releasing a painful groan. Small shards of glass had embedded themselves in his wrists and hands.
Reaching for the cell phone amidst the shards, its screen now shattered, Shimizu emitted a deep groan of pain. Suddenly, a shudder ran through his body. Touma stood behind him, his black dress shoe applying increasing pressure to one of Shimizu's ankles.
"What are you whining about? I haven't even cut you yet," Touma remarked in a quiet voice, smiling and tilting his head to the side. His narrowed eyes scanned the ground; the smile widened as he noticed the shards of glass beneath him. However, it faded as he spotted the fallen pen. Shimizu sighed as Touma stepped away, taking a few paces back and crouching down. Rising unsteadily, Shimizu's trembling fingers dialed a number on the screen as he took a step forward, watching Touma delicately retrieve his pen.
"You lunatic. He saved you. How could you do that to him? Touma-kun, you're out of your mind. You need to go see a doctor, you scum," Shimizu snapped, his voice a mixture of anger and pain.
Furrowing his brow, Touma rose slowly, tucking the pen into his pants pocket. Shimizu continued limping behind him, a grimace of pain on his face. However, a metallic sound on the ground preceded a strike behind his knee, causing him to scream and fall face-first onto the hundreds of glass shards that cut into his skin.
"You bastard," Shimizu mumbled, gritting his teeth and crawling forward. "I don't know what kind of hell awaits you, but it's what you deserve."
Touma grinned at the sight of his hands staining red as he clutched the glass shards. Pushing himself up with one leg, he reached for the cell phone in front of him. Touma approached slowly, looking down at his own feet as he walked, the crunch of glass beneath his shoes echoing in the alley.
"There's no one up there. It's just you and me. Sibyl might assess our psycho pass, but the ultimate judge here is me."
"You're an abomination. A mistake. A deviation from nature..."
The words hit a nerve, momentarily fracturing the icy composure in Touma's gaze. His jaw clenched imperceptibly, a fleeting betrayal of the turmoil within.
"You people should stop insulting us."
Seizing Shimizu by the hair and lifting his head, Touma raised his arm in front of him. Shimizu trembled and shook his head, but Touma delivered a blow with a hammer, making his body spin and fall sideways on the ground with a resonant thud. Touma gasped, feeling the weight of the tool for a moment.
Approaching, he grabbed Shimizu's head again and placed him on his knees. Shimizu mumbled something. Blood gushed from one side of his face. His hands reached awkwardly into the air behind him, searching for Touma's arm, but his uncoordinated movements could not stop the next blow. His body was thrown to the ground, and a sound between a moan and a gurgle escaped his mouth.
Touma's chest rose and fell quickly, his body slightly leaned forward with a smile. After taking a deep breath, his expression turned serious. Shimizu lay on the ground, his body experiencing involuntary spasms, as if the aftermath of the blow manifested in intermittent convulsions. His figure twisted occasionally, but his eyes remained closed.
Approaching, Touma stood in front of him. Lifting the hammer with both hands, he let it fall on his skull repeatedly. Blood splattered in all directions, staining his face, hands, shirt, and pants. Finally, Touma stopped in the alley. After a brief moment of contemplation, shoulders slumped and breath ragged, he stooped to lift Shimizu's body with effort and dragged it along the ground until he tossed it from a footbridge. The sound of the body hitting many meters below resonated in the dark silence of the night.
Touma observed the motionless body below for a few seconds. Then, he stepped back to retrieve the bloodied hammer and the cell phone that had slipped from Shimizu's lifeless hands. He stashed the items before heading towards the river, far from where he was, to cast them into oblivion. The shadows of the alley embraced him as he disappeared into the night.
In the room at the PSB office, Kougami and Sasayama were wrapping up the interrogation of a criminal they had just apprehended. The atmosphere was tense as they exchanged glances, satisfied with their successful operation. Suddenly, their wristcoms beeped, indicating an incoming call. Shion Karanomori's face appeared on the screen, her expression grave.
"I think you should know someone fell off the Kokusai Expressway overpass in Shinjuku and died. We got his ID. His name is Shimizu Jiro," Shion informed, her voice steady but carrying an underlying weight.
"Who?" Kougami raised an eyebrow, lowering his head to get a better view of the screen.
"Shimizu Jiro. The teacher you interviewed today," Shion clarified, her eyes fixed on Kougami's reaction.
Kougami's eyes widened, and he exchanged a quick glance with Sasayama.
"Send us the location," Kougami demanded, his tone firm.
"I'm on it," Shion replied, her fingers swiftly typing on her terminal.
As the coordinates appeared on their screens, Kougami and Sasayama prepared to leave the room. The successful arrest was overshadowed by the unexpected news of Shimizu Jiro's death, casting a somber atmosphere over their recent victory.
"The body was found near the overpass at the Roppongi Industrial Complex," explained Shion, her voice carrying the weight of somber news.
"Is it the inner area?" Sasayama asked.
"Yes."
"We're heading to the crime scene to check something. Let us know if anything develops," Sasayama continued, a sense of urgency in his words.
"Sure."
As Kougami and Sasayama briskly exited the interrogation room, the usual clatter and activity of the PSB office felt muted, a stark contrast to the urgent atmosphere now surrounding them.
"Shimizu Jiro is dead?" Kougami muttered, his brow furrowing. "That's not possible. He can't be dead."
"We'll soon find out," Sasayama assured.
As the news of Shimizu Jiro's death sank in, Kougami and Sasayama descended to the ground floor of the PSB building. Their hurried footsteps echoed in the corridors as they made their way to the parking area.
Upon reaching the fleet of patrol cars, Kougami and Sasayama quickly settled into one. The metallic click of the door closing resonated in the quiet garage as they started the engine. The powerful hum of the vehicle filled the space as they maneuvered out of the building.
The city lights sprawled before them as they navigated through the streets, heading towards the industrial complex where Shimizu Jiro's lifeless body awaited examination. The neon glow of the city gradually gave way to the somber hues of the industrial area, where factories stood silent in the dead of night.
Kougami's firm grip on the steering wheel reflected his determination, his thoughts racing to make sense of the sudden turn of events. Beside him, Sasayama maintained a stoic silence, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"The back of his head is smashed, and his neck is broken. He died instantly," Kozuki reported, his voice low as he crouched next to Shimizu's lifeless form. "It must've been hard for him. We found this in his pocket."
Kozuki stood and handed Aoyanagi a small transparent bag with a piece of paper inside.
"Keep quiet until we submit a report," Aoyanagi ordered, her gaze stern.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Ginoza-kun said things could get complicated if Sasayama finds out," she murmured.
Upon arriving at the desolate crime scene, Kougami parked the patrol car, the sound of the engine cutting through the quiet night. They stepped out, the echo of the car door slamming drawing the attention of the team already gathered there.
"How does he know already?" Aoyanagi sighed. "Go on, stop him."
Kozuki, accompanied by a couple of enforcers, hastened toward Sasayama, who was already on his way to inspect the crime scene. Without hesitation, Kozuki and the enforcers closed the distance, their movements swift and coordinated. In a synchronized effort, they reached Sasayama and firmly seized his arms, bringing him to an abrupt halt. Despite Sasayama's resistance, the enforcers held onto him.
Sasayama's eyes darted towards the crime scene, where the lifeless body of Shimizu Jiro lay, yet beyond his reach at that moment. Kozuki, with a stern yet empathetic gaze, attempted to reason with him.
"Sasayama, you can't come here. We need to follow procedure. Let her handle this. Jumping to conclusions won't help anyone."
"Risa, even though we don't work together, this isn't right," Sasayama's muscles tensed as he grappled with the enforcers' hold. "I just want to check something. Call them off before I lose control."
"I know how you must feel, but it was a suicide. He was drunk. We found a bottle of vodka and a suicide note," Aoyanagi explained.
"You don't know who he is," Sasayama pointed his index finger at Shimizu's body. "Why can't I just check with my own eyes if he really committed suicide and smashed his own head?!"
"We'll take care of it," Aoyanagi assured.
Kougami approached her, standing in front of her.
"We personally interviewed him. You don't want this to be an issue between the two divisions, right?"
"Now you too?" Aoyanagi sighed, looking away for a moment. "You have five minutes. However, if Sasayama contaminates the scene, you'll take full responsibility."
"All right, ma'am," Kougami turned around. "Let go of him."
Kozuki and the others released Sasayama, who pulled away and continued walking towards Kougami, heading a few meters away from them where Shimizu's body lay. They knelt beside him, with Sasayama next to his head.
"I was right. It was not suicide. He was murdered by the suspect, who tried to fake the death with a fall but smashed his head first. Look at this," Sasayama pointed at Shimizu's head. "Can you see? It seems like he plays with his victims before killing them."
"What do you mean?" Kougami asked.
"Look," Sasayama raised his chin towards Shimizu's broken ankle and then pointed at his bloody hands. "Even if he jumped without gloves, he'd never hurt his hands like that. Shimizu Jiro must've met the suspect somewhere nearby. He must've dragged Shimizu Jiro somewhere with shattered glass. He murdered him slowly, as if he were hunting him. He must have used a heavy tool. He must kill for pleasure. He murdered Ryoji Hashida, an unidentified girl, and Abele Altoromagi exactly the same way."
"But the stage is different from the other victims. He didn't use plastination on his body..."
"Shimizu-sensei," Yashiro greeted him lightly, walking side by side.
"Takahashi-san, is it?" Shimizu glanced at her. "What brings you here?"
"It's about the recent murders."
"What about them?"
"You should stay away from Touma," Yashiro stopped abruptly, turning to face him.
"Say again?" Shimizu furrowed his brows, halting and lowering his head toward her.
"He's not what he appears to be."
"What do you mean?"
"At the anniversary party, he didn't join Altoromagi because he wanted to participate in charity projects."
"You attended that party, didn't you? You lied to me. How did they let you in if you're suspended?" Shimizu questioned. "They didn't."
"He wasn't there for charity; he was there for Altoromagi's daughter."
"What are you implying?" Shimizu frowned, but received no immediate response. "This is a very serious accusation you are making."
Yashiro took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto Shimizu's. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but Touma is not the person everyone thinks he is."
Shimizu's expression hardened, a mix of irritation and disbelief. "Takahashi-san, this is beyond absurd. Touma owes his entire life to Altoromagi. He saved him from a desolate existence in Ogishima, took him out of a wretched neighborhood, and made him the person he is today. There's no way Touma could repay that with something so monstrous."
"Shimizu-sensei, I understand how it sounds, but Altoromagi's daughter is in danger, and I believe Touma is using you and others to maintain a façade of normalcy. He's not as innocent as he wants everyone to believe."
Shimizu shook his head, dismissing her claims. "I can't fathom Touma being involved in this. He's a respected teacher, a genuinely kind person. I won't let these accusations tarnish the memory of the man who gave him a second chance at life."
"Shimizu-sensei, I implore you to consider the possibility. I don't want to believe it either, but I can't ignore reality."
Shimizu's expression shifted from irritation to disbelief. "Takahashi-san, I appreciate your concern, but this is preposterous, and your accusations are baseless. Why would he be involved in something like that? Touma is not a killer, and I won't entertain these absurd notions."
Yashiro sighed. "I knew you wouldn't believe me easily, but please, for your own safety and the safety of others, just be cautious. Don't engage him alone, and call the police if you do."
Shimizu's frustration grew, his voice firm. "I can't believe you'd make such wild accusations without any evidence. I can't fathom Touma being a threat. His psycho pass is remarkably low, and he has been thoroughly vetted by the PSB. I think it's best if we part ways here."
With that, Shimizu continued walking, leaving Yashiro standing there, her words hanging in the air.
The atmosphere on the overpass was surreal, with the holographic police tape creating an otherworldly barrier and the hushed whispers of onlookers carrying the weight of mourning. Below, Shimizu's lifeless body lay sprawled on the ground like a discarded marionette.
Yashiro felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, pulling her away from the haunting scene. Kougami Shinya and Sasayama Mitsuru, both focused on examining Shimizu's body, questioned her presence with silent intensity.
Kougami's voice cut through the tense air, "What are you doing up here, Takahashi-san?"
Yashiro's gaze shifted between the investigators and the lifeless form on the ground. "I... I just needed to see... to understand. Shimizu-sensei, he..." her voice trailed off.
Sasayama exchanged a knowing glance with Kougami before gently guiding Yashiro away. "You shouldn't be up here. Let us handle this," he said, compassionate yet firm.
Descending the stairs, Yashiro could not escape the echoes of her recent conversation with Shimizu, now contrasted against the harsh reality below.
Just as Yashiro reached the ground, Ginoza, with a stern expression, approached her. He had just arrived at the scene and, upon seeing her, could not help but voice his concern. "Why is it that whenever something happens, you're always hanging around?"
"It was my fault," Yashiro admitted, her gaze lowered. "I should have warned him before."
"Warn him about what?" Ginoza's voice was sharp.
Silence hung in the air before Yashiro responded, "Touma."
"You believe he is behind this?" Kougami's voice held a mix of skepticism and curiosity.
"I think he lied. He doesn't care about charity."
Ginoza exchanged a glance with Kougami. "Takahashi-san, we've already interviewed Touma Kouzaburou. While his psycho pass remains low, we take your concerns seriously. However, at the moment, there is no concrete evidence linking him to Shimizu Jiro's death. We need substantial proof to proceed further, not just emotional suspicions."
"Emotional?" Yashiro frowned.
"We can question him again, point a dominator at him, Gino," Sasayama suggested.
"Will you listen to yourself for a second, Sasayama? Touma is a former unregistered child. If you turn on the dominator without solid evidence, human rights organizations will make an uproar. Can you take responsibility for him? It would be good if there was evidence. I'm telling you not to do anything other than what I've been ordered to do. Rebelling against an inspector is a violation of the job regulations. Do you want to go back to a correctional facility?"
"I didn't know cops were more concerned about procedure and the press than preventing another murder," Yashiro commented.
Kougami intervened, sensing the rising tension. "We follow the law, Takahashi-san. We can't act without proper evidence. We have to operate within the boundaries set by Sibyl. It's the only way to maintain order."
"Concerns about human rights organizations aside, is that the reason you haven't approached Touma directly?" Yashiro asked.
Ginoza's expression remained unyielding. "I'm sorry, Takahashi-san. These matters are for the CID to discuss."
Sasayama frowned, crossing his arms.
"I understand," she sighed.
"What's going on?" Aoyanagi approached, her eyes darting between the group.
Ginoza turned around, walking towards Aoyanagi, who spoke to him away from them with a serious look fixed on Yashiro.
Kougami lingered. "Takahashi-san, is there something you want to tell us?"
Yashiro's eyes flickered downward for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
"No, thank you," she replied. "I will see myself out."
As Yashiro walked away from the investigators, she meandered through dimly lit alleyways, navigating the nocturnal labyrinth that encapsulated her thoughts. The night wrapped around her like a cloak, concealing both the city's secrets and her inner turmoil. The flickering neon lights painted a kaleidoscope on the wet pavements as the holographic projections adorned the urban landscape, creating an ethereal aura.
The distant hum of traffic and the intermittent glow of holographic billboards welcomed her back to the bustling heart of Tokyo. The city's skyline stood adorned with the iconic symbols of progress, and amidst the dazzling array of lights, the imposing Sibyl System logo gleamed prominently, a constant reminder of the ever-watchful eye that governed their society.
As Yashiro navigated through the neon-lit streets, her pocket vibrated with the familiar hum of her phone. Startled, she retrieved it, her fingers dancing over the screen as she glimpsed at the caller ID. A heavy breath escaped her lips, a palpable weariness etched across her features. With a quick swipe, she answered the call, the glow of the holographic lights casting reflections in her tired eyes, the distant city sounds serving as a somber backdrop to their conversation.
"Yashiro?" Rikako's voice echoed through the line.
"Hey."
"I've been calling you all day. What happened? Where have you been?"
Yashiro sighed. "I screwed up. Sorry."
"I was watching the news and hearing what everyone's saying about Shimizu-sensei's suicide, and that's when I decided to call you again."
"It wasn't a suicide. His head was smashed, and his hands were too damaged, like he was tortured."
"Don't tell me you went there."
"I had to."
"Why?"
"I needed to see..." her voice trailed off.
"What?" Rikako asked. "You should come back. Everyone's worried about you."
Amidst the city's bustling energy, Yashiro sank onto a desolate bench, the weight of her thoughts pressing down.
"I have to help the detectives."
"After what they did to you?"
"The way Touma's playing with everybody's like he's confident he'd never be seen as a suspect for any of the murders he's committed. He has no criminal record. It means that maybe he's protected by someone very powerful. Someone rich and influential. I know Shibata Yukimori is behind it. Be careful with him."
"Shibata-sensei? Touma-sensei?"
"I think he knows I suspect him..."
"All the more reason to stay away from him."
"I don't know what's going to happen, but I need to stick around to see."
"What? Are you kidding?"
"I need to get closure on this, Rikako."
"I don't understand. It seems you're giving him what he wants."
"I know. I have to go," she pressed the screen, ending the call before Rikako could protest further.
As Yashiro ended the call, the vibrant city lights surrounded her, casting a luminous glow over the neon-lit streets. The urban jungle hummed with life, yet her steps were solitary, navigating through the labyrinth of the city with a distant gaze. She walked for what felt like hours, the rhythmic tap of her shoes echoing through the empty spaces.
Upon reaching her new apartment, a place she had familiarized herself with earlier that day, she paused. The immaculate white walls lacked personal touches, missing the holographic screens that responded to a touch; instead, a profound stillness enveloped the surroundings. The residence, without family photos and cherished mementos, lacked the warmth of personal items.
In a mechanical trance, Yashiro roamed through the silent rooms. Heading to the bathroom, her movements lacked purpose. A futile search unfolded, and a frustrated exhale escaped her lips as she found nothing within her reach.
Retreating to the bed, a stark surface in the dimly lit room, the weight of the day pressed upon her. Sleep remained elusive. As Yashiro lay in the darkness, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, a sudden blur clouded her vision. Unbidden, her eyes welled up with tears. She blinked, frowned, and swiftly, her hand moved to brush them away, shifting on the bed.
A black car silently navigated the neon-lit labyrinth of Tokyo's streets, seamlessly maneuvering past the watchful security drones that hummed ahead. The city's enforcement system diligently monitored every corner, ensuring the preservation of societal harmony. Inside the vehicle, Touma's stoic expression betrayed no hint of emotion as he steered through the urban maze.
Touma's voice resonated through the enclosed space. "I was moved by your father's speech. In particular, the word 'give back' to society. The child he helped will carry on his legacy and contribute to society. Right, Touko?" His eyes briefly shifted to her slouched form in the seat, her eyes closed in an unconscious state that resembled peaceful slumber.