The analysis office would be in darkness if it were not for the light on the screens, and silence would be almost eerie if it were not for the soft purr of computer cooling. The entire division one was immersed in the places where the victims were found, staring at the data on the screens. On one side was the dismembered body of politician Ryoji Hashida, and on the other, that of a young woman whose identity remained a mystery to them. The city was shaking once again, the news was censored one more time in order to protect the stress level of citizens. But they knew that these were transitory and short-term measures, since the best antidote was to find the person responsible.

"No record. Absolutely nothing. She might be an illegal immigrant or an adolescent who was not included in the census."

Analyst Karanomori turned in her chair, lighting a cigarette. One of her hands was groping on the desk, an unusual gesture that represented impotence. Her blond wavy hair fell over her face and she arranged it so that it would not keep bothering her eyes. As expected, she had crimson-red lipstick and looked more tired than usual that day. The huge dark circles under her brown eyes, were clear evidence that she had not slept enough. All the analysts had the same emaciated look, and lived on coffee.

"Just like the politician, she was turned into a human specimen. No doubt they have to be related in some way," Sasayama thought aloud.

Both the enforcer and the analyst were smoking pleasantly, and soon the room was reduced to a large cloud of tobacco. Kougami was standing behind them with a hand on his waist, while the other one was pushing away the smell. The other inspector, Ginoza, seemed unaffected and stood firm with his arms folded, the one who gave the most thought to the matter. He had the withering gaze that he always exposed when he was concentrated and did not want to be interrupted.

"Human specimen. It couldn't be any clearer," Masaoka repeated with an ironic smile.

The engineer pointed to Sasayama with her cigarette and turned to the screen, remembering something. Her hands danced on the keyboard at an unintelligible speed, as if suddenly the whole dream had vanished to be replaced by an insatiable enthusiasm. The results of the autopsies were displayed on the screen and Karanomori placed both profiles at the front, side by side, with each victim's data underneath so they could be compared. For a long time, everyone present remained silent, trying to reach a conclusion.

"Voilà!" Karanomori exclaimed in a seductive French. "After performing the autopsies, I found both bodies were indeed eroded by the same chemical. And that can only mean the two murders have the same culprit behind."

Sasayama took a few steps forward, approaching Karanamori until he stood right behind her, and bent over some inches to look at the screen very carefully. For a fraction of a second, his lips parted in a dazed expression and the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth.

"Shion, could you show the images of the places where the bodies were found?" the enforcer asked.

The analyst agreed and typed some instructions on the terminal, requiring only a few seconds to show the information, which popped up after a brief minimalist transition. Kougami came a little closer, standing the smell of cigarettes, to try to see with the same eyes as the enforcer. They had a different view of the law, and so were able to comprehend criminals. Although Ginoza had warned him as a friend rather than a co-worker, he could not help but be excessively curious every time they had a similar case. He was walking on fire, and the flames fueled his enthusiasm. Sasayama's expression changed and he suddenly seemed upset, or even outraged.

"They don't look like simple murders, they were cut into pieces and then displayed such artworks, as if the killer were saying—"

"You get what you deserve," Kougami noted.

The enforcer had a lunatic's gaze and everyone looked at him carefully, without responding. The only one who was interested in his words, besides Karanomori, was Inspector Kougami. An imperceptible smile was drawn on his face, removing the seriousness that made his glance an intimidating look and even aggressive sight for those who did not know him. Ginoza, for his part, just crossed his hands, denoting the same indifference he shared with the enforcers. He seemed to mock Sasayama's endless creativity in silence, as if he were constantly protecting himself from ending up with the same crime coefficient.

Sasayama gave the inspector a silent glance and held the cigarette with his fingers, completely motionless, until he threw a puff of smoke in his direction. Kougami came up with a slight smile, though he leaned back to try to get the smell out by hand. Ginoza cast an accusing glance at him, fearing that his partner would get too far into the minds of the enforcers. Whenever he met Sasayama, Kougami seemed to be immersed in the way and motives a criminal would end up committing a crime, and he always wanted to enjoy playing cat and mouse.

He had the feeling that he would someday get in trouble for it, but he was willing to take him on the right path. Masaoka, who had been sitting on the couch in silence the whole time, took a hand to his chin and caressed it with a thoughtful look, while still studying the images. The wrinkles on his forehead accentuated as if he were trying to solve a complex puzzle.

"Plastination is not a simple procedure," Ginoza interrupted placing his glasses over his nose. "Extensive knowledge of pharmacology and chemistry is required. The man we are looking for must be an expert in one of these fields."

Karanamori fumbled with her fingers on the desk impatiently, looking for an answer that could serve the team. She did not really know how to start the search, because they had nothing. No clues. She was unable to sort through people to find the culprit. The last person to see Ryoji Hashida was apparently a professor at the Ousou Academy, but she had conducted an exhaustive search without finding anyone who shared that profile. Ginoza was scowling, trying to find a reason for the case. Sasayama, on the other hand, stared blankly at the two images on the screen, belonging to the profiles of both victims, as if to inspire himself.

"It's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Masaoka scratched his head.

When students entered the academy's computer room, they were silent or whispered among themselves when they saw Yashiro involved in both murders. The victim of the second murder was a teenager, but her true identity was unknown. She had been found in a public park by a student who was photographing the grounds, and the condition of her body was quite similar to that of the politician Ryoji Hashida. This time, however, plastination did not come to the fore in the hungry media. Journalists talked about the weather or other irrelevant issues. Everything was too quiet, but Yashiro did not give in.

Students passed by her discovering that she did not stop struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. She read about plastination and was constantly catching up on the research. They had never seen her so concentrated and solemn, and soon the whispers were spreading throughout the academy. There were only some students doing homework or chatting in the room, and as the silence was absolute, she was able to continue in the greatest calm. However, nowhere could she find images about the bodies involved, it was as if total censorship had been imposed.

On her screen, there was an image that showed a man no more than thirty years old, with short brown hair, dressed in a black suit. Below, in a smaller typeface, it said Sasayama Mitsuru. She could not stop looking at him, over and over again. A pang of emptiness invaded her chest, but it was gradually replaced by hatred. Her hands trembled slightly on the surface of the table, and when she noticed her behavior began to close all the windows on her screen. For a moment she felt the confused glances of the few students present, but ignored them and breathed in deeply.

"Hello, Takahashi-san," a voice behind her back blurted out. "Looks like you've been pretty busy."

Words stuck in her mind like blades and she turned around to find the face of Hisakawa Izumi. For a few eternal seconds she was speechless, stunned by the presence she would have least expected. Then, she slowly drew a cordial smile and surprise dissipated as quickly as it had emerged. Izumi took a brief look around and then leaned back on the adjacent desk, a few inches away from her, with her arms crossed and an indecipherable gaze. She was chewing gum, though she went unnoticed in the way that only she was an expert.

"Within these walls we are disconnected from the outside world. The NONA tower may be on fire and I am here without knowing anything," Yashiro answered by extending one of her hands.

Izumi's face lit up with a faint smile, until she could not resist much longer and burst out laughing, as she lost her eyes on the ceiling for a few moments as if she were actually imagining the scene in her mind. A student who was farther away looked up and hissed for her to be quiet, although Izumi made a minor gesture with one of her hands. When she turned to Yashiro, her expression suddenly changed to reflect the greatest paranoia.

"You shouldn't use the library to research these things. Your room would be better."

"Why, is Big Brother watching us?" Yashiro asked half joking.

Izumi rolled her eyes as she shook her head. She made a small balloon out of the gum, but she unmade it when she heard the sound of the door opening. A teacher came in to ask something, and when she turned back the way she had come, returning the characteristic silence of the room, she observed Yashiro leaning slightly.

"You'd be inciting violence. I was suspended a long time ago for doing the same thing, only instead of being discreet as in your case I showed what I found to the others. In other words, I raised the stress level a little, but enough to worry management. I don't regret, though. Today even a byte of information is worth it," Izumi confessed in a strange and thoughtful tone. "I hope you found what you were looking for."

Yashiro leaned back and looked down. Her fingers groped hesitantly over the armrests. She could not stop thinking about her words, those so revealing and surprising. Simply by choosing to see reality she could get in trouble if it affected those around her. When did it come to such extremes? Yashiro was really worried that in the future they would start banning books or works whose content might increase their stress. However, she arched an eyebrow when she realized that it was happening. It had always happened, to be more precise.

Schools were conceived as tools that would make them citizens, adapting them to the rules and customs of the community, and that meant, in turn, that they would keep them away from all those elements that were considered subversive, just as in the past in some countries the printing of Mein Kampf was forbidden. From state schools, where the curriculum was planned by the relevant ministry and could not be changed—unless the teacher was a little mischievous and original—and even private schools, as in the case of Ousou Academy, whose management feared losing its students if the level of stress was compromised.

"Sort of," Yashiro admitted in a disappointed voice. "All news programs seem to be forbidden to talk about these murders, and what little they did mention was contradictory."

Izumi released a fleeting laugh, stepping away from the desk to look directly at Yashiro's screen, as she searched for something in her backpack.

"News programs don't care about reality. They just want to keep you on the edge of your seat, enjoying their show. Here you are. I think I can give you a hand."

Izumi took out a black portable disk and connected it to the computer without even asking Yashiro's permission, though the latter did not mind at all and stepped aside to give her space. Half a minute later she was using a different operating system customized to her liking, which Yashiro was totally unaware of. She was about to ask full of curiosity what was on the screen, when her answer came forward.

"They can't censor everything. Here," Izumi pressed a button and information started to pop up on the screen. "Oh… you don't even need to look for it. Seems like these murders became very popular on the web. There are even discussion forums… the good thing about this kind of site is that you find multiple opinions. Look at this guy here… he says that hologram instead of attracting people is going to scare them off, because no one will want to go eat at the restaurant with such a view…"

Izumi giggled at the forum's comment, without realizing that her companion was not amused at all. However, when Izumi looked at her out of the corner of her eye her smile slowly faded, until she cleared her throat to harden her expression. Yashiro shook her head while Izumi put the disk back in her backpack, winking at her.

"You're welcome. Oh, and when you're done give it a reboot so the system… so everything is back as before. You don't need to erase history or anything."

Yashiro nodded with obvious respect and spread an honest smile on her lips, which stopped her from leaving for a few moments.

"Let me guess," Yashiro extended her hands. "You're going to study engineering."

Izumi's smile was enough of a statement, even though she did not specify which branch she was interested in and simply walked out of the room without saying more. Yashiro believed that she would have a successful future, though she suspected that she might have hue issues if she continued to visit so often those murky sites of disclosure and debate, where there were users who even approved of certain crimes occurring in society, considering them necessary. Network was extremely wide, like a universe where each star could shine with whatever intensity it wanted.

Her fingers interacted with the keyboard and soon the information she was looking for was displayed on the screen. The image taken by the student in the park appeared instantly. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of comments about it, but Yashiro just stared at the exposed figure, the way its skin had been cut away and rearranged. She squinted as she noticed that the skin on her thighs looked like a skirt over her hips. A strange cold caressed her back as a death embrace, and for a few seconds she closed her eyes. Human creativity had no limits. It was so morbid that she did not know what to call it, she was not even able to imagine herself in that place, in front of the corpse.

Her eyes suddenly opened, focusing on the young woman's face. Something about her caught her attention in an almost sickly way. She felt her heart beating out of control and her thoughts flowing nowhere, running over her with memories that were both indifferent and strangely close. Touma's face emerged from the depths of her mind, with that carefree smile of life which so characterized him. She saw herself then in an apartment that did not belong to her, holding in her hands an old painting that was nonetheless in perfect condition. The only painting in a lonely apartment.

"It's my sister," Touma's voice rose.

Yashiro knew him. Although he sounded soft there was an implicit discomfort in his eyes, which glowed in a somber way. She did not hesitate to put the painting back on the cabinet with delicacy, suddenly feeling like an intruder. Touma leaned sideways on the furniture with one arm on the wood and stared blankly at the old photograph, in which he was wrapping his arm around the girl, being a little taller than her. He must have been between ten and fifteen years old, while the girl seemed to be much younger. They were so similar in appearance that Yashiro instantly realized they were twins. An honest curiosity flooded her mind and Touma seemed to sense it, as he drew a smirk.

"She died long ago," he proceeded by squinting, and at Yashiro's worried gaze extended one of his arms in her direction, gesturing to wait. "Save the words… I know you're not sorry. You don't have to feel sorry for someone you don't even know."

Yashiro was left with her lips half open. Sometimes Touma's insight was most disturbing to her, and that was no exception.

"I wasn't going to pity her, but you. The deceased loved one can no longer feel any pain, but he passes it on to those around him."

Touma turned his attention to her, and melted in her eyes for almost an entire minute, lifting her into the air and bringing her back to the ground with a deep sight. A soul-filling understanding, and when he returned to the last remembrance of his sister, his gaze seemed to move away from her again, as if he stopped being himself to show, instead, a new horizon.

"Don't worry. I assure you, Yashiro… that her death didn't transmit me anything at all."

Yashiro frowned at his words, but especially at the icy tone used. Although she was excessively curious to know more about his past, chose not to ask about it. She had never seen Touma so far away, as if life had suddenly ceased to have any meaning for him and he were standing there not really knowing what to do. However, Yashiro knew that he was fully aware of himself and his surroundings, and that was what confused her most. His voice seemed to harbor all sorts of underground and secrets, and even though she desired to know them, a part of her refused to, as if for the first time she were suspicious of his presence.

Touma became an echo in her mind, which gradually started to move further and further away till finally vanished altogether. Her head was spinning and she felt a dizziness invading her body, like a current sweeping everything in its path. When she opened her eyes again, found the screen in front of her and the image of the young woman in its center. She could not help but shudder at the sight of her brown eyes staring at her, identical to Touma's, as well as the whole shape of her face and the color of her hair. Yashiro jumped up, and remembering Izumi's instructions, rebooted the computer. The screen went back to normal as before, and something inside her prompted her to get out of there.

It was not long before classes were over and she headed to one of the art rooms, staying outside to wait for the students to come out. When they did, many greeted her and asked her how she was doing, to which she merely replied with a grin that she had to ask something about a homework she had left pending. Once they were all gone, Yashiro entered with renewed seriousness, closing the door and surprising the only one present.

The art teacher was keeping a book in his satchel, and when he noticed the newcomer, he completely stood up with unbridled interest. He studied her features, the fatigue she allowed herself to show in his presence. She slept less and less and he could see it when she walked to the window, her eyes wide open, like a child who never stops asking her parents questions about everything she saw. At that moment, she seemed to restrain herself to avoid throwing all kinds of questions.

"You cannot fall asleep if you are constantly thinking about what is tormenting you," Makishima reassured her in a slightly amusing tone.

Yashiro opened and closed her eyelids with unusual intensity. She seemed to be a spectator of distressing images that only unfolded in front of her. The conversation she had held with Touma was still so vivid, that for a moment she felt detached from her surroundings.

"Both dream and reality are what torment me," Yashiro gibbered.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Makishima was kind enough to keep quiet when the situation required it and Yashiro was mentally grateful. She did not know what she was doing there, but somehow talking to him calmed her thoughts.

"Is it because of your recent interest in the Specimen Case?" he asked with some cunning.

Yashiro's eyes shone like the moon as she observed at night. She seemed to be looking for the right words or analyzing whether she could show them to him. It took almost an eternity for her to answer, and when she did, for the first time she expressed deep indignation, as if she were not able to believe her own words, or in fact did not wish to do so.

"The second victim… the girl… it's her… Touma's sister," Yashiro mumbled, looking for the right words. "I know he killed her… as well as the politician Ryoji Hashida."

If Makishima was surprised, he was excellent at hiding his emotions. She was blaming a person who worked at the same academy for the murder and he did not even seem to realize how serious the situation was. Even though he knew it was a professor he had a close relationship with. She listened to his slow steps, felt the attentive way he watched her. He was a few feet away and remained serene as usual, his head slightly tilted to one side.

"Have you reported him?" he wanted to know, in a mournful and direct way.

Yashiro turned halfway, frowning. The mere idea that Touma Kouzaburou was behind the murders did not shock him. He lacked a personal interest in what might happen to him, he only wished to know how she had acted upon such a discovery. It would not surprise her that in reality he had always known the truth. Yashiro exchanged a look and finally shook her head. The darkness that had plagued the man's face, completely dissolved to make way for the purest curiosity.

"Why not?"

Yashiro swallowed. Touma could not be judged by the Sibyl System. She had always sensed this, but she finally accepted it as a fact. She could perceive that kind of individual because they were different from the others, they had something that separated them from society. A way of thinking and behaving that, no matter how immoral it might be considered, ended up being incompatible with the standards of the Sibyl System. Yashiro was always able to distinguish the person hidden underneath, but she did not recognize its colors or scents, it was inaccessible to her.

When she discovered Ouryou Rikako talking to him, she could not help but worry. Touma Kouzaburou was unstable, and therefore unpredictable. He was one of those people you should not make enemies with, for as soon as they were disturbed, they would embrace emotions from the depths of their being and when they did so, you could no longer reason with them. She had the feeling that Rikako was letting herself be guided by the wrong star, and would lose the way back home if she walked too far. Yashiro had to send her a signal so that she would turn back. But she knew Rikako and was aware that she would never see it. Like Touma, once she started something she did not stop until it was complete.

"I'm worried about Ouryou Rikako," Yashiro slowly asserted.

The man walked back to one side, taking gentle steps that echoed not only in the room, but in Yashiro's mind. When he finally stopped his walk, he tilted his head towards her with great insight. Yashiro sensed his words as her own, though she could not avoid feeling a twist from the depths of her heart.

"Each of us is responsible for our own actions, Yashiro."

The young woman lost her sight in the courtyard again. Her fists were clenched for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the other to notice. She felt her heart start to beat faster, and the silence of the room made her hear the sound of her own breathing. At those moments she no longer found herself able to hold his gaze. For as soon as the amber of his eyes connected with her, a fleeting current of ice and anger invaded her. He had always known, perhaps even before it began. She wondered who or what had fanned the flames. And when she turned to stare at him her eyes denoted, for the first time, a deafening coldness.

"You're curious to know how it will all end, isn't it?" she dared to ask.

Although in those instances everything in Yashiro emanated rancor, her voice was soft and slow, as if deep down she were aware that she could not stop what was beyond her reach. The man curved his lips into a mischievous smirk and approached her, putting his hands into his pant pockets. Only then did Yashiro realize how little she really knew him. And that very uncertainty seemed to amuse him even more, as if he were rejoicing in the fact that he was holding her in his hands.

"Aren't you?"

Yashiro stirred in her place as if the ground were burning. A shudder clouded her entire mind, leaving her in the very nothingness. The warm blood returned. The dominator entered the scene once again, and Rikako's face stood in the way like a flashing white light. Yashiro closed her eyes tightly as if her life depended on it and turned to the window. Makishima, on the other hand, stood next to her until he was a few inches behind her. When Yashiro dared to break the silence, her voice sounded hesitant and melancholic.

"If anything happens to her…"

Although she could not finish the sentence, Makishima guessed what was going through her mind and went ahead, with a rigid and authoritative tone that shook her from head to toe.

"She will be responsible. Did you force her to take that path? Did you whisper in her ear that you would otherwise kill her?"

And she knew he was right. Ouryou Rikako had taken flight of her own free will, though for the moment she was only learning from those who already knew how to fly. She wondered where she wanted to go, whether she had really set a destination or was just absorbing from others. She would have been excited before, but now her journey was beginning to unsettle her. Makishima's words were like daggers thrust into her back, and she sighed deeply.

"Even so, I couldn't watch her disappear," she confessed, swallowing as she opened and closed her eyelids. "I won't let him this time…"

Yashiro clenched her fists so hard, that it took her a couple of seconds to notice they were shaking slightly. She was submerged in the most primitive and corrosive waters of the human being, both in body and mind, and Makishima seemed to want to stir up its current. What she did not manage to discover, however, was the reason. She refused to believe that it was mere curiosity. Makishima frowned, speechless. Yashiro had shown a part of her that she did not usually reveal in public, barely aware of it. The student who did not meddle emotionally with others, was now tearing herself apart from within, being vulnerable.

"We're the only ones who can protect her," he whispered close to her ear. "You must not tell anyone, Yashiro."

As he tilted his head to look deeply into her eyes, Yashiro's gaze was lost in the sky, even though she was not observing anything at all. She was aware that she needed him, she could sense that his powers and influences were expanding even outside the academy, but she had the feeling that his interests were focused on something else, not related at all to Rikako's well-being, and not to hers either. He had no loyalties, and the problem with that type of individual lay in his complex unpredictability.

Makishima's words sounded too far away, and she only responded with a nod. Then, unexpectedly, she felt the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder. At first, a shudder ran through her entire spine leaving her breathless. But gradually her body began to adapt to such a simple gesture, until she completely relaxed, as if a great weight had been removed from her soul.