As they walked through the streets of Tokyo, a large hologram with a happy woman's face flashed on one of the buildings, and it seamlessly transitioned to a sanctuary. Yashiro stopped to raise her head in its direction. People passed by her and continued on their way. Only one of them turned around with an arched eyebrow and stood next to her, glancing at what had caught her attention.

"Have you enjoyed that power?" He asked with a deep, enveloping voice like that of someone speaking in an auditorium.

"I was not aware I had one."

"Think of what those in these sects preach: personal… selflessness. Don't you think that's what you've been doing all these years? They wouldn't accept your motives, but motives don't alter facts. You never cared about becoming a mirror. The voices themselves changed the reflection. Naturally, you gained reputation. Does it change reality? Suppose you wanted to help your classmates out of pure altruism. Isn't that what you did in the end?"

A wind that neither of them was able to stop had risen, and the waves were already too high. She dived in, "In order to express the opinions, the desires they lacked or did not truly want to admit, I abandoned my ego. And they accepted me, they freely supported me by looking for me in the corridors of the academy, wanting to know what I thought about issues that concerned them. Reflections, you say? They have represented everyone but me."

He looked at her in silence for a while. His eyes slowly opened as if he had just witnessed an explosion in the distance. She looked down instead, her body sinking like stone; it was the first time she had ever admitted that to anyone—she had not even done it with Rikako or Toma. But what surprised her most was that she had never done so with herself before. The quiet sense of power he was talking about had been always there nonetheless, though she had actually never used it. He felt it too.

"That's not what they—and even the Sibyl System, may I say—think about altruism. They would claim that you shouldn't let people decide on their own free will. You should be the one to do so. You should determine what you think they should like; your own idea of good and evil. It would have to be by force, for they have freely chosen already."

"I am not an altruist. I do not like to decide for others."

"What you think of God, Yashiro?"

"I do not think of God."

There was an involuntary grin on his face, and after several seconds he allowed himself to let out a slow, deep laugh that caused a lighting up of his eyes.

"Being Sibyl a global life-long welfare support system that embraces every aspect of human life, people no longer need to cling to religion. An atheist, then?"

Yashiro shook her head with a peaceful expression. He was not the first to ask that question, and he would not be the last.

"Since my mother was a Catholic, she taught me everything she knew. So I used to pray when I was a child for my father to leave us alone or even... have an accident. It never happened. It just got worst. As I grew up, I knew it was myself the one who had to do something if I wanted change. My mother did not think the same; she kept using religion to hide our problems. People seek shelter in gods. I find it in friends."

Yashiro attentively looked at him out of the corner of her eye;his calm expression was somewhat victorious, for he had managed to convey to her the strange peace that surrounded him, so that she would let her guard down in his presence without even realizing it.

"There are people who consider Sibyl a god and are devoted to it, believing its judgements to be of divine origin," he looked up the hologram again.

She instantly grimaced, "How can you cling to a system that takes innocent lives but allows certain individuals to get away with murder? What are the principles governing this system of justice in which they find themselves ensnared?

"I reject any form of faith or belief in the supernatural, including God, as well as religious moral teachings, which order man to obey authority rather than to pursue his own rational interests. Reason leads to freedom and faith leads to force.

"A man who understands that reason is an absolute will demand his inalienable right to think and live for himself. This people, on the contrary… not only seem to accept their executioner, but to seek him out and esteem him…"

"Most people eventually take the blame for the crime they have allegedly committed, because they have no choice; they are so pressured by their beloved Justice, that they end up believing they are murders, thieves or worse. In the end, they don't resist their inevitable execution.

"Sibyl has discovered the key to ruling people: by breaking their souls so that they can only be filled with the system itself. Destroying their ideals so they will obey because they cannot trust themselves anymore. Providing them with everything so they will need it as their leader, their God. Preaching sacrifice and self-denial like in the past.

"Creating a world of obedience and union where no one will have thoughts, desires of their own. Everyone must agree with everyone and accept each other. You've seen it yourself at the academy: those students guided by public surveys to find a career, rather than by their own personal preferences. The only thing they seek is prestige, fame, recognition; that is, to be accepted by others, at the price of self-respect. Isn't that true altruism?

"The end of reason, for no individuality can be allowed to exist. Everyone lives sacrificing for everyone. Progress stops and everything stagnates. An equality in which people are subordinated to the desires of others."

Makishima stopped to glance at something in the distance. His eyes narrowed and fixed on the slender shape of the tall NONA tower, owned by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. The same building that she had always considered a Benthamian panopticon, for it seemed to be watching from above the sky. And then she focused on the man who challenged his environment with the eyes; he seemed as graciously as an aristocrat in a luxurious restaurant in Tokyo, yet at no time did he insult the place, for he could make a palace out of any house he entered.

There was something almost magical about this man that would not let her look away. Standing on his own again, what those amber eyes glimpsed was inexplicable, and she had never seen it in anyone else; the loneliness that he hid had transformed him into an individual completely willing to follow his ideals, and Yashiro risked saying that he would also be able to die for them. Despite being a wonderful life, he did not feel at home. His closest friends were strangers, his family was distant or nonexistent.

"Reminds me of an old novel by Philip K. Dick," she put her hands on her black coat. "This whole structure is like a giant torture chamber. Everybody staring at one another trying to find fault, trying to break one another down. The stress. The tension. The guilt and suspicion. The fear of committing an indecent act or having a too high psycho pass. Censorship. Banning books and art. We sure know one thing about Sibyl: that it was invented by sick minds, and it creates more sick minds."

"And who would believe that an individual who seeks to be involved in the maintenance of society's ethical standard is, herself, morally defective? What would that say about this society?"

"They would refuse to believe it instead; they would say that it is just an individual devoted to public service, our welfare and the improvement of our society."

"You did consider turning yourself in to the MWPSB," he squinted at her, his frown slightly scowling with a hint of accusation. "Everyone strives to attain the Law. Was that your way of seeking admittance? What made you change your mind? Are you perhaps… afraid of the gatekeeper closing the door right behind you?"

Yashiro blinked a couple of times looking in different directions. He had the uncanny ability to know what she was thinking and she had never been able to get used to it. It was like walking down the street barefoot. You could do it all day long, but you would still feel the cold, uncomfortable pavement under your skin.

"I think I won't ever find answers if I cross the gate as Yashiro Takahashi. But I think I could gain entry if I cross it as… an inspector."

They kept walking until they finally reached a tall building and took the elevator. Makishima led her to a huge and beautiful living room; the floor was bright as if someone were constantly cleaning it and a large window displayed the city, which he went to as if seeking inspiration. They could see the NONA tower rise from there, as well as many other imposing skyscrapers. When Yashiro finished inspecting the place and noticed his absence, she turned to look for him.

"You never felt small looking at the sky."

He blinked dreamily, raising his head a few inches for an instant as if he had been pinched.

"When I look up, I think of the man who created an airplane to conquer that meaningless space."

Yashiro took a step forward but held back, her face suddenly brightened by a smile, "And the special feeling that many say they feel when contemplating nature… I have never received it from nature... but from buildings and skyscrapers."

"When I look at the city below from this very window, I don't think of God. I think of the men and women who created them; the human will in physical form. I don't have the sense of my own smallness, but the sense that if anything were to threaten all of this..."

"You would risk your life protecting it," she whispered to herself as he gazed at the cars below, that were like blurry black dots in constant motion. "Because this is all you have. Your only shelter... and prison too."

Yashiro's voice was remarkably low and soft, almost imperceptible, but as solid and accusatory as that of a relentless judge. After several seconds, he turned around to give her an everlasting smile and narrowed his eyes. Only then, in a manner as fleeting and ordinary as a conversation among old friends, and at the same time as solemn and cordial as an official declaration of the gravest importance, he blurted out, "I have you."

Yashiro was silent for a long time, looking at him as a drunken sailor at a land in the distance; her sigh was so used to the emptiness of the sea, that she did not truly know whether it was an island, another ship or a blur produced by her then tired mind. As soon as words echoed in her head, she opened her lips, yet not a single sentence could come out of her mouth. Suddenly a few steps resonated across the room, and Makishima put his hands in his pants pockets as he looked over her shoulder, hardening his expression.

"You must be Yashiro Takahashi," stated a deep, male voice behind her.

Yashiro turned around and arched an eyebrow, forced to raise her head to look at the thin man who came out of another room. He had short brown hair with long bangs hanging over the right side of his face. She squinted at those bi-colored eyes, which were barely open to reveal the red and yellow iris, yet they seemed to be watching her from head to toe. They might have damaged at some point in his life, so he needed to replace them with artificial ones.

"Shougo has told me a lot about you," the man leaned slightly with politeness. "My name is Choe Gu-sung."

She imitated the gesture casting a fleeting scowl at Makishima, and the man walked toward them with a round silver tray which had two white cups with golden lines, and many madeleines. As he bent down to put it on the table, she noticed that his right ear was pierced. He then sat on one of the two armchairs which at first glance seemed comfortable, with his legs stretched out and his body leaning back. There was a tablet and a dark bottle on the small square table between. Makishima allowed her to sit in the only armchair left.

Even though they had walked so far, she was not tired, as she was used to walking. Seeing Makishima standing next to them with his own cup was like being at a game just about to start, and he for the first time was an observer rather than someone who was part of the game. She returned to the table and could not help but take a look at the screen on. There was a title and cover of a movie she instantly recognized despite the distance, and suddenly a smile lit up her entire face making her look younger than she really was, even though the man turned the screen off at that moment, "Minority Report? I take it you are the type who is into cyberpunk stuff."

He frowned for a second and smiled like a high school student in love.

"A girl of good taste."

Choe Gu-sung's appearance instilled respect and in a certain way experience. The silence that opened up between the three of them only aggravated the tension that such an imperceptible yet intense gaze produced. Even so, Yashiro did not look away and studied his style; he was wearing a black jacket and red pants, and when he took a sip from his bottle, she then realized that he was analyzing her as well, though in a quiet and respectful way.

"Not the type for eye contact, are you?" The man asked out of the blue.

Yashiro made circular movements with the cup in one hand and observed the liquid inside, "That depends on the person and how much you trust them."

She felt the amber eyes suddenly fixing on her, and took a sip from her tea.

"It means you never turn your back on anybody… unless you know that person won't betray you… someone worthy of your trust," Yashiro smiled back and he let out a dry, hoarse laugh that lasted several seconds, and echoed throughout the room. "I figure you don't trust the Sibyl System as much."

Yashiro grinned at him while he opened his eyes further, "You cannot wait for a system or a security force to save you. There is no time to make a call when someone is about to kill you. And even if our system has managed to anticipate crime… do you really feel comfortable leaving your life in the hands of someone or something else?"

"You are too smart for your own good. And pretty much distrustful. Has anybody ever told you that?"

Yashiro was silent for a while. She remembered her days at the academy. The way people felt comfortable when she was around; how they believed she considered everyone her friend. But she had never shared her feelings with others, she had always answered what they wanted to hear, no more and no less. She had never told them lies, for they were not looking for a truth either, but for words to convince them of their own lies.

"Not really. You must be the first. Maybe… because you do not usually turn your back on people either."

The amusing smile that had covered his lips until then was suddenly gone; Makishima himself turned to look at his partner slightly raising his eyebrows. The latter had to clear his throat, and it took him a few seconds to laugh. It was a strange one; as if it were not usual for him to do so in front of others or was too tired.

"I was born in Korea," he blurted out looking down his bottle, as if taking her as someone to whom he could confess anything. "But the moment I got here I didn't understand how you deal with a system that can even wipe you out just by being stressed. How can you feel so confident walking down the street without being able to defend yourself? Maybe that's why I never quite fit in."

Yashiro nodded her head. She had imagined the color of his hue the moment she entered that room, for people with standard hues would not be with someone like Makishima. She was sure he was a latent criminal, or someone close to being one. His words made her stretch backwards, however, and she looked down in silence for a few moments until she whispered, "I know how it feels. I do not have a bond with this city either."

"You're such a traitor," Choe Gu-sung shook his head with a grimace, then suddenly smiled.

Yashiro felt her chest swell with air and held her breath. He did feel the same. He had probably gone through that as a child the moment he left his homeland searching for a new future, and she found her way out at last.

"What is your concept of country? A territory? The set of people you have to live with, even if you do not agree with their decisions, their lack of action? Or your friends? Your family?

"I cannot stand it when they put a State above individual wills, as if each person were an instrument forced to perpetuate a symphony that does not consent.

"And to top it all off, if you stand out and say you want to take a different path, they will point at you on the street like mad dogs calling you a traitor. Traitor! How dare you leave this land when it needs you most, how can you turn your back on the land where you were born!

"Everyone has the right to seek happiness wherever they want. If they cannot find it in the place where they were born, they should be allowed to do so elsewhere. Even if they are wrong and truly live in a paradise; they should be free to make mistakes."

The man nodded softly and slowly for a long time, until he decided to ask, "This country doesn't suit you, miss. Why are you still here?"

"I have questions of my own that I want to answer. And you, Mr.?" Yashiro paused and slowly raised her eyebrows. "You are interested in the Sibyl System as well. You want to know its mechanism; how does it classify people by psycho pass. And you are not willing to leave until you get to the truth by yourself—"

"Interesting," he turned to Makishima leaving the bottle on the table. His sudden smirk was somewhat curious. "The profiling."

Yashiro looked at Makishima—whose gaze fixed on her—and then back at him. They seemed to be talking to each other with their eyes, and she was not part of that conversation. For a moment they were all silent and as soon as the man looked at her again, she shrugged her shoulders, "I just like to observe."

"And how close do you think you can really get at a glance?"

"We've had enough of playing detective. I do not think I am here for that anyway," Yashiro rolled her eyes and took another sip from her cup. "Am I right, Makishima?"

Only then did he come closer to reach a madeleine, and she had a sudden feeling that brought her back to her academy days once again, having to blink strongly to remove that memory from her mind. His expression softened the moment he turned to the window, as if he had expected such a question, "And why do you think you are here?"

Yashiro finally left the empty cup on the tray making a rather loud noise on its surface.

"Because you still owe me an answer."

"About?"

"Mitsuru Sasayama," with her elbow now on the armrest, she rested her cheek on her fist and stared at Choe, "I was told you have found something about him."

He was looking at her with a dazed, almost drowsy smile as a child listening to a story before going to sleep. Yashiro felt like a sculpture being studied by an expert. Then he suddenly uttered, "Tell me my profile."

"Why would I do that?"

"So you fill a report for your superiors," he released a chuckle. "I just want to know the way you see things."

Yashiro sighed as she looked straight into his eyes, silent for several seconds as if watching something right behind him or nothing at all, "You sneak. You do not like to be in the same place twice. You may have fun with some pretty girl and the next day you disappear, because you do not want to be recognized. Leave any trace. That's why you need him; a man to show his face instead of yours. If Makishima is the orchestrator, then you are the one who stays off the stage spreading the invitation to the performance."

Makishima was smiling with his eyes lost in the tea. Choe Gu-sung was still immersed on her studying her features.

"Tell me about your friends. Do they know you as well as you know them?" He asked defiantly, making her purse her lips and turn to the window. "Do they know you could kill them in a second with that Glock?"

Yashiro opened her eyes further, and returned to him like an exposed cat ready to fight against the one from the next house. She shook her head with a barely perceptible grimace as she placed part of her coat over her leg to hide the gun, a reaction that made him laugh in a low voice.

"You're no ordinary thief; I can tell you had training. Shougo didn't teach you how to use it, so I bet someone in your family did…" his voice trailed off as soon as her iron eyes pierced him like a piece of cloth, and he deeply sighed making a long pause. "You're like a doctor; you can cure everyone but the only patient who refuses to see the disease is yourself.

"Now, about that enforcer… you may know that a cymatic scan reads a person's biological reactions and records their hues. But we don't really know how the data from the scans are processed. That's why I figured we should start first on determining which part of the brain a cymatic scan focuses on."

Yashiro raised her eyebrows without bothering to hide her curiosity, and stayed silent for a few seconds. Makishima was waiting, analyzing the way she reacted to her environment. He knew that she was no longer a student, and was not protected by the walls and management of an academy.

"The one related to emotions, I suppose?"

"I might be able to work on a way to fool the scans. I can make a device that obstructs them, or some kind of drug that creates a false psycho pass."

"You mean stimulants."

He rested an ankle over the opposite knee, "Precisely."

"Sounds kind of tricky."

"The harder a game is, the more fun it is to play; and I have no intention of giving up."

Yashiro stayed looking at him, the way his lips curved into a mischievous, rebellious smirk. He might be in his forties, yet he looked younger than many of her former classmates. He was not a man who lacked motives in his life or who was driven by public opinion. He was looking for something and was convinced he would find it. His engine was constantly on, waiting for every possible opportunity that came his way.

"You are really a genius, Mr.—"

"Call me Choe."

She remained silent for a while, until she finally got up from the armchair with a fleeting frown to go to the window. Glances followed her across the room, yet she did not care at all and leaned forward to watch the city below. Choe reminded her of one of those hackers she had read about when she was a kid.

There was something about that man; she had felt it before. It was a feeling shared by probably most of latent criminals and people who were about to turn black. She then half opened her lips; envy and resentment. Two of the worst things a human being can have, for they denote a great lack of self-esteem, and have been the driving forces behind all kinds of crimes throughout history.

"There haven't been many improvements in neuroscience," explained Makishima leaving his cup on the tray. "Live human experimentation is the key."

She frowned blinking a couple of times, then turned to cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye in a sudden deep voice, "I will not help you find pigs so you can cut their heads open."

"I knew you would say that. You haven't changed."

"Don't get me wrong. I may want to find out Sibyl's mysteries as well, but I am not doing it for you. And I am not following your way of doing things either."

"Of course you're not!" He gently shook his head with a chuckle. "I would be disappointed if your actions were based on the desires of someone else, and somehow you always succeed in surprising."

Choe Gu-sung arched an eyebrow, his voice timidly high-pitched at first, and his face growing visibly amused by a fight he did not fully get, as it only belonged to them, "Did I… miss something?"

"You both know that unless you physically infiltrate the system's core, you would never fully understand its mechanism, don't you?"

"We would need someone working within the MWPSB," emphasized Choe. "And we don't have anybody."

"What's on your mind, Yashiro?"

"Not sure… for now."