Mika sat alone in the front row of the auditorium, facing an empty stage and a blank wall. She was always the first one to arrive at the regular briefings of the Criminal Investigation Department – the CID, for short – though that was through no particular merit of her own; the others were simply prone to being late. Still, with fifteen minutes left until the scheduled time, the young Inspector had nothing to do except to twiddle her thumbs and await the others.
She had not managed to get much sleep the night before, but then again, that was not such a rarity nowadays. Stress care and a regular supply of medication helped somewhat, yet there were only so many chemicals the body could absorb into itself before it started resisting their effects. She would much rather not drug herself into an early grave, and so she had little recourse but to hope that the demons that kept her awake would be exorcised sooner rather than later. Maybe I'll try and hit the hay earlier tonight, she mused. Not that that would do a lot of good, though, if I just toss and turn in bed all night.
The door behind her abruptly hissed open, and a distinct set of high-heels strutted their way down the steps. "As punctual as always, Inspector Shimotsuki," chirped a crisp, clipped voice that dripped with cold authority.
Mika looked up. There, making her steady way towards the podium, was her superior and savior, the eagle-eyed Chief Joshu Kasei, clad in her usual smart dark dress, her hair elegantly swept to one side. It was always a surreal sight, watching the slender and sharp-tongued overseer strut about the place – not least because Mika knew what lay behind that piercing gaze, framed by her signature wire-thin pair of spectacles. Past that veneer of humanity was ensconced a secret that only a very, very select few were privy to, and Mika was honored, if a tad uneasy, that she could count herself as one of their number.
She still recalled in vivid detail the day when, in the depths of her despair, she had been faced with the brutal truth of the entity under whose auspices she had served all this time. As the wire had plunged its needle into the Chief's neck, and the biomechanical workings of the machine beneath the flesh had been uncovered in all its gruesome glory, the ground under her feet had seemingly given way, and she had felt for a moment as though it might swallow her whole.
Then, inspiration had struck like lightning from the blue, and as revelation had dawned upon her, the fear had inexplicably given way to unbridled relief and elation. The sheer genius of the Sibyl System lay in the simplicity of its premise, combined with the complexity of its calculations. Over two-hundred of Japan's brightest, working in tandem for the welfare and wellbeing of the nation. There could be no better person – or persons – to be nominated to the gargantuan task of adjudicating the unkempt masses. The scales of Lady Justice would finally be held by the most impartial and omniscient judge that could ever be appointed to the role.
And when confronted with such an awe-inspiring paragon of virtue, as Mika was then, what else could one do but applaud?
"I must congratulate you on another job well done," Chief Kasei added. "No unnecessarily casualties, and the conflict was largely confined to the Skytree. Most importantly, no bystanders saw the latent criminal, and the local Area Stress was kept to a minimum. I continue to be impressed by your progression, Inspector."
Mika blushed faintly. "You flatter me. I just did what needed to be done."
"Of course." The Chief smiled, though the expression carried no warmth. "That is why I – and we – have placed such unwavering trust in you. As long as you carry on vindicating that trust, we will have no doubts about your loyalty."
"Naturally." Mika could say no more, for there was no more to be said. Whatever the Sibyl System desired, Mika would follow through to the letter. And that was that.
As the preordained time drew near, her colleagues slowly began filing into the assembly hall, starting with Domoto, an Inspector from Division 03, who slotted into the seat behind her. "Good morning, Inspector," he said with a pat of her shoulder.
Mika nodded. "Morning. Good work the night before," she said.
"The credit's all yours," Domoto replied. "We just watched the ground floor and made sure nobody tried to escape. I suppose it helped that Ginoza was with me."
"If you say so." The mention of the other of the two former Inspectors Mika knew caused her to click her tongue, but she did not otherwise respond. Having to work with latent criminals was a bad enough gig – having to work with a latent criminal that used to be an Inspector was, in her eyes, nothing short of unconscionable. But rules were rules, and it was hard to deny that Nobuchika Ginoza's prior experience with the CID's operations made him a useful tool to have around, if one that was somewhat hard to control. "You did keep a close eye on him, though, didn't you?"
"Come now, Inspector," spoke another voice. "It's not like I have much cause to run away. Where on this tiny island would I go?"
"You never know," Mika responded without turning around. She already knew who that calm, collected, and almost gently mocking croon belonged to. "Not with latent criminals like you."
Nobuchika laughed heartily as he sat down in his spot two rows behind her. "As uptight as ever, Shimotsuki. Some things never change."
"That's Inspector Shimotsuki to you, Enforcer."
"If you say so."
Chief Kasei cleared her throat, and the hum of conversation was immediately silenced. "I'm sure as all of you are aware," she began, "our latest operation was commenced two days ago at 2039 hours, and was concluded in 48 minutes. Much of that expediency was owed to Inspector Shimotsuki's situational planning and keen awareness of the safeguards we put in place to isolate crime scenes from the line of sight of the general populace. Once again, Inspector, I commend you on your work."
A smattering of applause rang out in the auditorium. Mika smiled in acknowledgement, though in her eyes, the ovation seemed purely perfunctory in nature – she knew, as they all did, that one needn't be praised for doing what their job required of them.
"Looking to the bigger picture," the Chief added as the clapping died down, "that unfortunately continues the recent trend of increasing Area Stress elevations we have been seeing around the city. They do not appear out of the ordinary – after all, stress is contagious, and it can pass from person to person with little heed for circumstance or location. Such swells of Area Stress will inevitably die out as long as you carry out your functions as members of the CID. Stay on your guard, remain alert, and suppress any latent criminal activity that you find. That is all the Department asks of you. Understood?"
A chorus of agreement emanated from those gathered.
"Good. Now, let's move on to the agenda for the coming fortnight."
Day had swiftly given way to night, and the Public Safety Bureau headquarters, an unassuming structure of steel and glass that stood across from the far taller and far more eye-catching NONA Tower, was shrouded in darkness as its inhabitants wrapped up their tasks for the day and made their way home. Up in the higher echelons of the building, overlooking the busy and bustling streets below, a single blue square remained lit amidst the façade of black.
Mika sat with her back to the glittering landscape painted across the urban sprawl of 22nd-century Tokyo, ignoring the rush of activity splayed over the labyrinthine web of roads stretching out as far as the naked eye could see. Her gaze was fixed on the computer screen on her desk, her eyes flitting up and down, left and right as she scanned the post-operation reports for each brush the CID had had with latent criminal activity over the past few months. No conclusive patterns had been found in the spate of relevant cases that had arisen, but that did not stop Mika from looking. As the saying went, one time was happenstance, two times was coincidence, third time was enemy action. And if there was indeed any enemy action present, it would have to be nipped in the bud as soon as possible.
"Working hard as ever."
Mika almost jumped in her seat as she spied the shadowy, slim silhouette standing over her desk.
"Kunizuka," she breathed. "You scared the living daylights out of me."
"You didn't hear me walking in?" Yayoi Kunizuka sat on the edge of Mika's workstation and chuckled. "You're losing your touch, Shimotsuki."
"After a year in the job? Hardly. I'm just getting started." Mika leaned back in her swivel chair and looked up at Yayoi's faintly smiling features. "You should head back to your room. It's late."
"I could say the same for you." Yayoi glanced over at the monitor. "What's so important that it'd keep you up until 10 o'clock in a dump like this? If I hadn't forgotten my guitar strings here, I'd be enjoying a nice, hot shower right about now."
"Just looking over some stuff," Mika replied absent-mindedly. "I'll be done in a bit."
"Alright. Just don't wear yourself out." Yayoi stared down at the pack of guitar strings in her grasp. "I know that you're trying to make up for being the only Inspector left in the Division, given that Akane's been… well, you know. But it's just—"
Without warning, Mika smacked the desk loudly, causing Yayoi's head to shoot up in shock. "I am not doing any such thing," she snapped. "Division 01 existed before Akane Tsunemori, and it will continue to exist after Akane Tsunemori. I am not overcompensating for her absence, and I'm tired of people – especially you Enforcers – thinking that I am. Do I make myself clear?"
As Mika met Yayoi's gaze, she noticed the fear that had been etched into Yayoi's expression, widening her eyes, parting her lips in fright. "Sorry," Mika murmured. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Yayoi shook her head. "No, you're right," she replied quietly as she looked away. "I'm sorry, too. I know it's not my place to worry about you in that manner, but, well, I can't help myself, I suppose."
"No, I—" For a moment, Mika debated whether to tell Yayoi not to worry about the obvious gap between their current respective statuses, and to treat her as she'd always done: in the same way that she'd treated that sobbing, heaving middle-school girl in the rain all those years ago, wrapping a jacket around her shoulders, patting her back gently, allowing her the chance to grieve the ghastly and cruel demises of her two best friends. In a strange twist of fate, it was that encounter that had first opened Mika's eyes to the possibility of joining the CID, and which had ultimately reunited her with Yayoi Kunizuka after so long.
But Mika was no longer that middle-school girl, and both she and Yayoi knew it. There could be no pretenses of personal relationship, particularly considering how people of Yayoi's ilk were viewed in the lenses of society. A latent criminal was a latent criminal, no matter the person they had once been.
"Anyway, I'll be heading out." Yayoi waved the guitar strings in her hand and stood. "See you tomorrow… Inspector."
Mika returned the wave. "Goodnight, Kunizuka." Yayoi slipped out of the room, and Mika was left by herself again. As soon as Yayoi's footsteps had vanished out of earshot, Mika sunk her head into her hands and sighed, letting her tired breath seep through the gap between her palms.
What is wrong with me?
Maybe it was the concomitant stress of a line of work such as this that had accumulated, piling up in her subconscious, making her more irritable even as she struggled to discover why. Maybe it was simply her visit to Akane's holding cell yesterday that had put her in a foul mood. Maybe it was the mystery behind the barely tangible yet undeniable recent rise in latent criminality. Or maybe it was a combination of all those reasons.
She knew she really ought to arrange for herself to go into stress care, before her Crime Coefficient started reaching dangerous levels. But something was nagging at her, poking at her from the recesses of her mind, telling her that there was some other reason for the malaise, something that would not be solved simply by chemically or psychologically washing her momentary anxieties away. As long as the disease remained, the symptoms would carry on recurring.
There was no one she could go to for advice. Akane might listen to her, but she did not see the world as Mika did, and certainly was under no obligation to offer assistance to someone who worked for her captor. Though she trusted Yayoi and essentially counted her as her only confidant in the CID, she was still her boss, and Yayoi would not have taken kindly to Mika's latest outburst in either case. None of the Enforcers were on good terms with her, though that was largely by design – Mika preferred to remain as far detached from them as was reasonably practicable. And the chances of Chief Kasei counselling her on matters such as these were so remote as to not warrant imagining.
In short, despite being regularly surrounded by so many people, Mika remained, as always, alone in the crowd.
Just as she'd been since that fateful day.