Disclaimer: I claim no rights on any Psycho-Pass related material.

She tried to stand and barely made it, the pain on her head making her see white spots and her ears ranging. As if through molasses, his laughter reached her and the sound became louder and louder, cutting through the high-pitched sound in her skull.

She had managed to reach Shogo Makishima before Mr. Kougami and she was glad. She could only hope Mr. Ginoza and Mr. Masaoka would stall him enough for her to get the criminal.

… and to talk to him.

Sibyl had done something more than just reveal its true nature to her that night. It had also narrated her a sad and cruel fairy-tale.

His.

She tried to focus on the white (whitenothingvacant) figure that was standing tall in front of her, mocking her no doubt about her inability to get him. He had kicked the grenade up and it blasted in the air, doing no harm. He charged at her, kicked the Dominator from her hand and elbowed her on the side of the head, making her fall from the pain.

Through a haze, she pushed her body up with her hands. After taking some labored breaths (ithurtsitbuzzesicantsee), she managed to stand.

"…kill me, at least put some effort into it," she heard his mocking tone coming from in front of her, but she knew what to tell him. She had been thinking about it during the whole way there. It was now or never and she felt like she had to tell him that she knew, she HAD to, even though this man with Crime Coefficient 0 killed her friend (zeronothingnemptinesswhite), she just had to say it to him.

So, despite having her senses blurred and her feet unstable, she started speaking in a loud voice that was stumbling.

"Once upon a time, long ago, there was a little boy."

Even though her eyes couldn't catch details, she could tell that Makishima was actually listening, catching him unprepared with her words. So, she continued:

"A-a little boy who was different… who was different from the other people in his town."

He charged too fast for her to react. She lost him from her vision in a moment and then she felt pain on her right ribcage. She gasped and fell down again, but her ears were well and she heard him circling her like a vulture.

"You have already failed to use the stalling technique," he scoffed. "Haven't you learned anything about your incompetence as a detective and as a person? Didn't your friend's death reach you?"

He looked down on her. She was kneeling and hugging her body, struggling to catch her breath, but he knew she wouldn't do it soon, because he had broken at least a rib.

"I wish you would stop ridiculing us again and again," he said as he raised his leg, ready to strike at her head and crack it for good this time, but she managed to speak loudly again with her head still down.

"His town had a system that claimed it could see… a-and judge people's souls. It gave the people's souls a colour. He was given a white colour… Agh—!"

The kick that was aimed for her head found the other ribcage instead. She felt her breath cut off and fell completely on her right side, her arms limb.

She couldn't open her eyes from the pain, but she could hear his feet stopping right in front of her head. Gritting her teeth, her face a twisted mask of agony, she opened her mouth, sucked in a breath like a drowning woman and continued:

"But… white isn't… a (pant) colour. It's the-the absence… (huff) of colour." She cracked an eye open and tears fell, but she couldn't still see. "So… the system told him…"

His right leg started slowly drawing back.

"…you have no soul."

He balanced on his left leg.

"The people around him! (gasp huff) … th-they were scared of him. And so he was alo—! GAAH!"

This time, she blocked his kick to her head with her forearms, but the force was strong enough to make cracking sounds heard and she screamed.

He advanced toward her again with long strides, intending to attack her again.

"If you feel pity, might as well stop it." His voice was low.

She was whimpering now. "E-Everyone… everyone turned away… because he had no soul. (sniffle) His family threw him away… him… the monster."

His last step was longer and he took the impetus to kick her stomach.

"He was sad… and lonely."

He kicked again and again and again, the kicks getting stronger and stronger. She couldn't speak, she couldn't even scream.

Eventually, she got silent and he got tired.

"That was a waste…" he panted. He turned and walked away towards the exit, his white coat making him look bigger and more imposing than he actually was.

He was almost at the door of the garage, when he heard her weak but determined voice again, echoing in the empty room.

"'What's a soul? …what's so special about it? (breathejustbreathe) Why… why is having one so important? It must be, or else they wouldn't shun me. So… it must be special. But, why don't I have one? What does that say… about me, my feelings… and my actions?'"

He slowed down until he stopped right under the metal door frame. She continued to see

"'I want to see the people's souls. I want to see for myself if they're any worth.' He… He thought this. He wanted… to see… that important thing he was… missing. But, he wasn't… the-the system… he couldn't… see the people's-s-s-souls… He…"

She started to feel light-headed. Through the pain, blackness started creeping at her.

"He… he… he read books… that talked… about things from… about… souls…"

Darkness crept at her and she felt her body floating. She lost the world around her and her mind went blank—

Pressure on the wound of her skull filled her with pain coursing through her body, waking her up. For some moments, all she could think was the (white!) pain. She hissed and tried to move away from what was pushing itself on her head, but every movement was agony, especially around her midriff.

She didn't dare moving anymore, sickly grateful for the pain on her skull to keep her away. Whatever it was, it wasn't harming her any further. It was just helpfully keeping her from fainting again.

"F-free will… passion… love… grief… th-the books talked… they taught him… souls… so he could judge… on his own… b-buuuugh…"

She had gotten used to the pressure and she started to faint again, only for it to become stronger.

But it never became too strong. Just enough to keep her awake.

She took a deep breath and her next words came out in a rush; she knew she was out of time.

"But the world he lived in was empty of these things! Because it punished them! They made… they made the soul unrest and uneasy! A-and an unrest soul does harm! Crime! And the system said 'no crimes!' It said 'no crimes' and punished these things and… and…"

The tears fell freely from her shut eyelids (paintoomuchpainicantsee!) and choked her, but the pressure remained the same.

"…a-and the boy that was still crying, sad and lonely had no other way to see souls except the ways the books told him, so he made people's souls unrest, he made crimes, he made the stories of the books real and he searched for the souls, for what he was missing…"

(whimper gasp pant)

She opened her eyes. His face was looking at her, his expression impassive. But, his yellow eyes were glued on her own face, they were eager, expectant for her to go through her fairy tale.

"But he was disappointed. The people… their souls… didn't fit his books. What was precious for the soul to be seen… was lost. The system killed it. Still it judged people for these souls… So, the boy cried…"

He just couldn't look away.

"'This world is wrong'."

His expression was calm.

"It judges people for their souls, but it kills them at the same time. They can't be this weak. The books I read tell me souls are big, glorious and strong."

Just a ghost of a smile started creeping on his lips and she cried harder.

"Or, Is this what I'm missing? (sniff) I-is it so little and small and disappointing? Is this why I was shunned? It can't b-be! I was shunned for something so l-little…!"

His smile grew.

"H-he went on… crimes… he did himself… not… not just others… a-and he tried again and again… played games… death… to see souls big and strong… like books… but failed again and again… meet the odds… surpass… no one…"

Her speech had started to get jumpy, but she went on. He simply looked.

"One soul… strong enough… hate… full of hate… for him… a soul burning… so he mocked and killed and… killed…"

Her choking started and she couldn't continue beyond two more syllables:

"… Yuki…"

The pressure against her head disappeared and she moaned. There was silence for a while, except her sobs.

Her right eye was swollen and purple. There was blood all over her face and her tears mixed with it along with saliva. She was looking ahead without looking at anything at all and her face was twisted in an gruesome expression of grief and despair.

To his eyes, she was radiant.

"I see. So, you are…"

Running footsteps were heard from the other side of the room, and he turned to see. She couldn't, but she could guess who it was, because his smile only grew.

He moved away from her eyes, towards the other direction, but she managed to choke one last thing out:

"Like the system. Judge what he didn't have… just like the system… to see if it's worthy of his values…"

He stopped for a while and there was a snort from him.

"Just… like… the system," she concluded and she said no more.

Shogo Makishima was still smiling when he talked.

Akane Tsunemori was barely conscious, but she heard him.

"Interesting argument. It really is. Too bad though; the answer is still no."

And he sprinted towards the garage of the building.

Shinya Kougami, the man whose soul was damaged enough so it would meet Shogo's standards of splendor, reminiscent of the tragedies and passions his books described, was coming to kill him. He wouldn't accept anyone else for this role. He knew that the former Enforcer would stop at the sight of the young, beaten woman lying on the floor and he would check if she was…

"AKANE!"

…ah, he saw her. It was almost a pity he couldn't watch over the scene. His mind immediately went to his books. He couldn't find any real-life equivalent, neither in this society, nor in his own white (nothingemptinessblankDEAD) soul.

He knew which work would fit and which words exactly. These books were his teachers and his life, after all.

A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!

He hoped she was dead. It would be truly a beautiful tragedy. But, he had left her alive. He still didn't know why and he definitely didn't have time to ponder over it.

He had seen a soul burning for someone, even if it wasn't for him. He was going to die fighting, running away from another burning soul. He was worthy of one in the altar of emotion. It went so far for him, burning with a hate strong enough to abandon friends and bonds to get him. For him. For his life. For his soul under the guillotine.

He was worth at least that.

He climbed the truck and started the engine with the keys he found on the starter. Of course no one would come and steal it. The engine roared, the tires screeched and the truck sped ahead. As he was driving away, he heard gunshots and the vehicle's back wheels went out of control. As he was losing control and the truck went out of the road, he saw first the sky and then the ground coming at him.

Shogo Makishima was happy.

FIN.

—

A/N: This is me trying to make sense of the half words of the last episode, to give Makishima a resemblance of depth and motive, instead of the shallow, convoluted mess that we were given in canon and to point out the striking similarities his actions had to Sibyl's. If Akane and Shinya were similar but also different, then the other two main characters, Shogo and Sibyl, will have their own parallels too: judging people's souls according to their values whether the people holding them are worthy of living or not.