Darkness hung over her like a cold, clinging blanket. She was in a river of scarlet water, so far from the shore that the current seemed to guide her of its own volition. She wanted to scream, but a superior force prevented her. Her body was so weak that she could barely move or struggle to keep from drowning. The roar of the waves against the rocks on the sides was distant and deafening, and for a brief moment she fell asleep. A feeling of oblivion and deep calm that made her long for sleep.

She heard her name in the distance like a longing whisper, which was then slowly consumed by the wind until she was suddenly swept away by the violent waters. Despite struggling to surface, her lungs released what little oxygen they contained, and just then, she felt like she could reach the clouds with her hands. Her heartbeat stopped completely and all she felt was that time was fading away. She stretched out her hands with all her remaining strength, searching for something to hold on to, hoping for a miracle that she knew would never come.

The waterfall was like a sweet farewell, and as it began to fall at immeasurable speed, a shiver ran down her spine. She felt the cold air sink into her bones, filling her with a deep emptiness again and again, like an endless torment that killed her slowly, without quite doing it. In those moments, death was drawing her in, but somehow, she never hit bottom, she was trapped in its waters.

"Takahashi-senpai?"

The jump she made in her seat was like an insect bite. As soon as she opened her eyes, her eyelids felt heavy. The coldness of the water, the relentless abyss of the fall, was still etched in her senses.

She kept remembering her helplessness in the river, as she was driven into the arms of death. For several seconds she remained motionless, her fists clenched on the table and her gaze fixed on a fixed point. She felt a cold sweat on her back as if she had been running.

"When was the last time you slept?"

The same female voice broke the silence again. Yashiro blinked and looked around for the owner. On one side of the table stood none other than Shimotsuki Mika and her two childhood friends. They were always seen together at the academy.

Shimotsuki kept looking at Yashiro with energetic brown eyes and hands on her hips. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her bangs were tousled over her forehead. Yashiro smiled with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Exams are coming up," Yashiro waved a hand and shrugged.

The three of them watched her for a few moments, noticing the almost imperceptible dark circles under her eyes.

"You had a nightmare, huh?" Shimotsuki guessed. "It's normal to have them sometimes."

Yashiro frowned as she felt her stomach growl. The last thing she remembered was heading to the academy's dining hall. She glanced around quickly. No one was there. It must have been several hours.

"I don't often have dreams, and I end up forgetting the few I do have. It's been a long time since I've had this feeling, which is most incredible... but terrifying," Yashiro smiled again, looking at Shimotsuki.

They sat across from Yashiro, side by side.

"Why do you say that?" Okubo Yoshika asked, resting her cheeks on her fists.

Her light brown eyes landed on Yashiro, matching the brown hair she had pulled back in two pigtails. Yashiro could not suppress a yawn that she managed to hide behind her palm. For a few seconds her eyes closed so tightly, that she had to rub them with her hands.

"Did you watch Inception?" asked Yashiro. "You take the dream as reality itself. It's only when you wake up that you realize its strangeness or peculiarity."

The three young women looked at her with their mouths slightly open.

"That's deep, I never thought of it that way."

As Shimotsuki nodded, her two friends continued to watch her in puzzlement.

"That's the first time I've seen you fall asleep," Kawarazaki noted quietly.

Yashiro studied her face, noticing the short dark hair. Her large eyes watched her intently without missing a detail. Her hands were clasped together on her legs. Yashiro deduced that she was very distrustful and probably avoided drawing attention to herself in public.

"Kagami-chan, she's human, you know?" Okubo nudged her gently.

Kawarazaki's cheeks reddened and she looked down for a moment. Yashiro narrowed her eyes for a few seconds as they gave each other a smile.

"Strange to see you here without Ouryou Rikako," Shimotsuki frowned.

"Have you seen her?" asked Yashiro.

"No, and I don't want to," Shimotsuki shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Yashiro wanted to know.

Shimotsuki leaned on one hand, taking a deep breath and fiddling with her hair, until she finally leaned towards Yashiro as if she wanted to tell her a secret.

"She's so smug," Shimotsuki exchanged a glance with her friends. "And she always has a blank stare... she reminds me of Okiku, the possessed doll..."

Yashiro let out a laugh and rubbed her eyes. She was sure that if Rikako was there, she would have reacted the same way.

"Oh my. Don't tell me you believe in those urban legends," Okubo rolled her eyes and sighed. "I really like her. You shouldn't go by appearances, Mika."

"Right. And you shouldn't talk bad about her behind her back," Kawarazaki added.

"Sorry. Guess I went a bit too far," smiled Shimotsuki.

"By the way, Takahashi-senpai... shouldn't you be in class?" Okubo blurted out, changing the subject.

Yashiro lowered her gaze seriously for a few seconds. They did not know that she had been suspended. Then she looked at them with a smile.

"Welcome to my world. If we see your classmates, we tell them you went to the infirmary because you were feeling sick. At least it always works for me. Girl tricks," Shimotsuki stood up from her seat and winked.

The three bowed their goodbyes in one swift movement and Yashiro followed them with her eyes as they walked through the large dining hall of the academy, until she left as well.

Her footsteps echoed through the lonely corridors, and the sound of the wind coming through the windows whispered in her ears. Yashiro made her way to an art room, but before she opened the door, she managed to hear not only Rikako's voice, but that of a man.

"Have you ever heard of plastination? It's a fascinating process that involves replacing the fluids and tissues of a human body with silicone, allowing anatomy to be preserved almost forever. It's like freezing the body in time, revealing anatomical details and structures that would otherwise be lost," Yashiro heard Touma's calm voice.

"Plastination... and what purpose does it serve? What does it accomplish by doing that?" asked Rikako.

Yashiro placed both hands on the surface of the door, but something prevented her from opening it.

"Good question. Plastination has applications in medical education and scientific research. It allows medical students to study human anatomy in detail, without the need for fresh cadavers. It's also used in public exhibitions to showcase the human body in a unique and educational way."

"So, it's a kind of... scientific art? But how does it relate to what we were talking about leaving a mark on the world?"

"Exactly. Plastination can be considered a scientific art form, but it also has a deeper meaning. To me, it represents the quest for immortality through the transcendence of the human body. By preserving anatomy and displaying it artistically, we are leaving a lasting imprint that defies the limitations of time and mortality," Touma explained.

"So, by doing that, you're saying that we're somehow overcoming our own nature, right?"

"We are transcending our physical existence and creating a lasting representation of ourselves. It's an act of rebellion against the transience of human life, a way of leaving a mark that will last long after we have departed."

"Interesting... but how does this relate to the concept of rebellion and the system you were alluding to?" Rikako asked.

"Well, the idea of rebellion is more of a metaphor in this context. Plastination is a manifestation of how we defy natural and conventional limitations, as does a rebellion in a broader sense. We are choosing to defy mortality and leave an indelible mark on the world, an act of transcendence that goes against the ephemeral."

"I understand better now. It's as if we are defying the established norm and creating our own path to immortality, albeit in a more symbolic way."

"We are using plastination as an expression of our will and desire to leave a unique imprint on this world, regardless of the structures and systems around us."

"I understand. It's like we're making our own mark on history, a mark that defies convention and reflects our own vision."

"Precisely. A mark that transcends limitations and allows us to assert our independence and authenticity in a world that often imposes restrictions on us. I would like to continue this conversation, but it seems that my responsibilities as a teacher require my attention elsewhere. Ouryou-san, it has been a pleasure discussing these issues with you and sharing perspectives. If you ever want to further explore these ideas or just have a stimulating conversation, feel free to seek me out."

"I will definitely keep that in mind, Touma-sensei. It's been a very interesting conversation."

Yashiro gently turned away from the door as she heard Touma's footsteps in her direction, and without wasting a second, she walked to the opposite side of the hallway, hiding behind a wall. She watched slyly as Touma exited the classroom, his figure tall and confident. His eyes glanced down both sides of the corridor with a frown before continuing on his way. Keeping her breathing calm, Yashiro watched him walk away down the opposite hallway, his footsteps echoing like an echo in the air. When she lost sight of him, she finally made her way to the classroom.

Yashiro gave her a long, subtle smile, stopping in the middle of the room to look at her as if it had been years since they last saw each other. Rikako was finishing a drawing and Yashiro approached her slowly. The image of Touma Kouzaburou was still in her mind, and she saw Rikako's lips move fleetingly, as if they had been about to smile and then regretted it.

"Rikako. I just saw Touma walk by. I had no idea you two knew each other," Yashiro pointed down the hallway naturally, frowning for a few seconds.

"Yes, we talked about plastination and how it can reveal unique aspects of the human body for study. It's a complex, but fascinating subject," Rikako replied after a pause.

"Really?" Yashiro raised her eyebrows and lowered her gaze.

The gentle breeze coming through the window seemed like a deadly whistle.

"Touma-sensei and I have a lot in common. He's willing to inspire me for my future works," Rikako looked back down at the drawing in front of her.

Yashiro narrowed her eyes and walked to the window, peering outside.

"Have you fallen asleep again?" Rikako asked. The ensuing silence was the answer she was looking for, and she stopped drawing. "Is it because of your family?"

Yashiro narrowed her eyes for a second, not taking them away from the outside. She lifted her head slightly as she relaxed her shoulders and kept looking out the window at the routine movements of other students, utterly quiet.

"I've always been curious ever since I met you. Why is she so different from others? What makes her special?" Rikako continued, widening her eyes. "So I did some research into your past. But there's one part of the story that doesn't add up for me."

"Which one?" Yashiro asked quickly.

Rikako stood up and walked towards her.

"The ending where a girl comes out completely unscathed, with her hue clear."

"I guess Sibyl spared my life."

"It has a very particular way of judging people," frowned Rikako.

Yashiro turned around and walked towards her. A faint smile lit up her face showing white teeth.

"Indeed."

Yashiro walked past her, heading for the classroom door. As she opened it, she frowned and froze. For a second she felt a slight pain in her forehead. Then she closed her eyes and sighed, stepping out into the hallway. Rikako followed her with her gaze until she disappeared from sight.

Yashiro was unable to notice the prominent white-haired figure that emerged from the hallway, approaching the classroom with a book held against his chest, as he watched her walk away in silence. Finally, when he saw her turn into another hallway, he opened the door to the classroom where Rikako was.

Walking around the huge academy for quite some time, Yashiro finally entered an empty classroom and her eyes fell on Touma, who was sitting behind his desk with legs slightly apart, engrossed in solving a Rubik's cube. His nimble fingers turned the colorful pieces with precision, while his expression showed solemn concentration, and he only paused to look at her for a second after Yashiro closed the door. She thought of the image one has of aristocracy. A calmness devoid of all guilt.

"Why did you do that?" Yashiro turned around with a frown and her voice louder than before. "Did you think I'd agree with you?"

Touma raised an eyebrow and stretched out in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

"I realized that people cultivate a peculiar blend of characteristics that render them highly susceptible to manipulation. Functionally, they struggle to entertain multiple concepts concurrently. Our most effective course of action is to present alternatives. By presenting a variety of choices, they become so entangled in the act of choosing that they remain oblivious to the fact that none of the options align with their original desires. Their underlying flaw lies in their pride. They'd opt for defeat, embrace suffering, rather than concede," Touma commented without looking at her in a quiet tone.

"It's my fault. I made a mistake letting this happen to me. I should've been expelled long ago," Yashiro sighed, sitting in a chair at the end of his desk, facing the blackboard, with one leg over the other and one arm on the desk.

Touma stopped the movement of his hands and looked at her with narrowed eyes and a serious expression, tilting his head to one side.

"Yashiro, I never thought I'd enjoy seeing this so much," he shook his head, lowering it and letting out a soft, short laugh, until he looked her up and down and broadened his smirk for a few seconds, showing white teeth. "It must be hard for you, not being in control. Makes it even harder for me to resist a chess pun at this moment."

"I've been thinking about men like the principal and the principle behind them for a while now… particularly these days when I was climbing on the rooftops of buildings to see the city."

"What principle?" Touma focused on his Rubik's cube.

"Altruism. We've discussed it before. That's what I never understood about people. They have no ego. They live through others. I've watched how they move, how they make decisions. Their thoughts and actions are shaped by the expectations of others. Their sense of worth comes from the approval of others. But in their constant quest to please others, they have lost their true selves. They sacrifice their individuality for the sake of conformity. They deny themselves the opportunity to be masters of their destiny."

"Fear of loneliness and lack of self-confidence leads them to depend on others for their own sense of worth. They don't trust their own decisions, their own worldviews. They want to fit into the image that others have created for them. And in that process, they betray themselves. You realize that, don't you?" Touma held up his Rubik's cube with one hand, his tone calm and his eyes relaxed.

"I see how they struggle to fit in, to keep their psycho pass under control, but in doing so, they fade into a sea of conformity and give up their own essence. They are willing to sacrifice their desires and aspirations in search of external approval, as if their worth depends solely on others. It's like they're willing to deny their true selves in order to fit the idealized image that has been imposed on them. They become mere shadows of themselves, craving the approval of others rather than finding their own inner satisfaction. They cling desperately to the convictions instilled in them and feel lost when faced with the possibility of deciding for themselves. Their quest for good behavior and conformity leads them to question their own actions, to doubt their intentions, to wonder if they have committed any crime by established standards. And in the process, they lose sight of their own inner voice, their genuine desire for expression and creation. Instead of being architects of their own lives, they become mere constructors of what society expects of them. So in what act or in what thought have they been themselves? What was their real purpose in the midst of this constant game of satisfying the expectations of others? What is their real motivation? What drives them? The quest for greatness, in the eyes of others. The need for fame, admiration and recognition, all of which comes from others. They cling to convictions that are imposed on them, for they have none. They are content for others to believe that they are true to those convictions. Their prime mover is what others think and want. They don't aspire to be great in their own right, but to be seen as such by others. Borrowing prestige and approval to impress. Isn't that true altruism? Betraying yourself by giving your soul to the rest."

"Exactly!" Touma's voice echoed in the classroom, as he frowned and raised his head. "That's the root of what I despise most in this world. Lack of ego. People who give up their own identity and allow others to decide for them. Those who are aware of their own dishonesty, but live through the illusion created by others that they are honest. It's an insidious way of deceiving themselves and surrendering their own integrity to public opinion. The desire to acquire renown for someone else's achievements, the obsessive pursuit of wealth and luxury to impress others, all such empty behaviors are a reflection of unwillingness. Then they're labeled as selfish for wanting to stand out and be admired. But always at the expense of their own self-esteem, placing others above themselves, as altruists demand. Someone truly egotistical wouldn't seek approval in the first place. It's easy to turn to others, so hard to rely on oneself. You can feign virtue in front of the public, never in front of a mirror. We are our own strictest judges. That's why they run from themselves. They pursue the approval of others, worrying more about what others believe to be true than what really is true. They repeat without questioning, exhibit without creating. Their achievements are based on relationships and connections rather than skills and merit. They act, but lack real source, scattered in the perceptions of others. They cannot be reasoned with, they are deaf to logic. Irresponsible beings who dared to live without conscience. And then they come to you with this hypocritical sentimentality without wanting to recognize what they do... how I dislike it! This mentality, this weakness of character, leads people to look for leaders, to look for someone to tell them what to do, what to think, how to live. And they deserve it. They deserve to be ruled by those who understand the true essence of independence and will. Do you see what I'm looking for?"

"Yes," Yashiro's tone was lower.

"What is it?" Touma asked in a gentle tone, looking at her and then at her clenched fist on the desk.

"I'm not an altruist, Touma."

"No. You weren't born to be one. You'd be incapable of even pretending. But I knew that when I met you. What are you thinking about?"

"Sorry. I can't help but remember your conversation with Rikako. I overheard it when I was looking for her. How do you reconcile the art of plastination with power? Isn't it a way to leave a lasting impression, to control how others perceive you even after you're gone?"

A shadow passed over Touma's features for a few seconds, until they relaxed again.

"Plastination is a fascinating process, don't you think? Gives a detailed view of human anatomy."

"I read that a polymer is used to replace fluids and fats in the body prior to that process," frowned Yashiro.

"I see you've been doing some research on the subject. How do you know about plastination?" Touma raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Yashiro turned to him.

"Well, mine's more of a hobby. I've been fascinated by anatomy ever since I was a kid. What's your excuse?"

"What?"

"Your reason."

"My father," Yashiro looked away, her tone lower than before.

"Do you still have bad dreams and trouble sleeping?" Touma stopped moving his Rubik's cube and fixed his gaze on the desk.

"Yes."

"You're not his daughter anymore," Touma rested the black Rubik's cube on the desk near her, looking into her eyes.

"I could never make myself quite sure of that," Yashiro sighed.

"Your bad dreams. Tell me about them."

"I see fragments, pieces of memories, flashes of faces, people who've crossed my path, their eyes piercing into me. Sometimes I hear voices… accusing, questioning," she lowered her voice, looking down. "I fear what they whisper is true."

"And when you're awake?"

"I wonder how I can live with myself. But part of me has grown accustomed, even numb to it. Does that make me a psychopath?" Yashiro turned to him.

"No. Is that what they called you? You know, my mother's death led to a storm of judgment and whispers because my hue remained unaffected. I think they called me… a deviant," his lips curved into a wry smile, with a hint of irony dancing in his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question," Yashiro pressed, her tone steady but laced with curiosity.

"It seems you have a talent for peeling back the layers," Touma's smile deepened, his expression a blend of teasing amusement. Then the lines of his face softened, revealing a vulnerability beneath the veneer of confidence. "I don't want to believe that when this body dies, it'll all be… gone."

"If life only comes once, won't you make the most of it? If I don't enjoy this life, I have an unlimited number of lives ahead of me, so I can waste mine."

"I don't want to waste a second of this. Well, I do waste a few seconds and I bet you do too."

"The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time," Yashiro smiled for a moment.

"Creative waste, then. Have you ever wondered why people write? Because words will remain. Nearly forever. Throughout history, mankind has been obsessed with eternity. Tell me... wouldn't you live forever? Even if we don't believe in that nonsense about souls, heaven and hell, I still like to think about eternity, that we're not just corpses and graves when we die," Touma looked down.

"But we aren't. When this life is over, we won't be there to see our graves, if we have any. At that time, we will no longer have to worry. It's a shame the world is ending, but I've had my time," Yashiro shrugged.

"You don't fear death, do you?" Touma asked.

"Yes… but not my own."

"Such an interesting contradiction. You've always struck me as someone who holds on tightly to life. It's unusual to see an egoist concerned about someone else's welfare. Almost poetic… how quickly you form an attachment to someone who doesn't even exist," Touma smiled with narrowed eyes, studying her carefully.

"Why are you assuming it doesn't?" Yashiro frowned.

"You've never loved anyone."

"Why do you think that?" Yashiro took her hand off the desk to rest it on her thigh.

"You're an accident of nature who loves the impossible, what doesn't exist in this city: integrity. You want to see a work of art in human form. I've never had integrity."

"I never thought… you'd say that about yourself."

"Don't worry about me. I was never like those who actually believe what the public says," Touma's voice dripped with a mixture of disdain and detachment. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, his words punctuated by a calculated intensity. "I despise the public. I don't mind slugs like the principal, but the mere thought of meeting a man of higher greatness… makes me want to crush him, to turn him into such a deplorable being that he can't stand his own existence… as an individualist who becomes a glorifier of masses. I must do it."

"Why?" her voice echoed.

"I don't know," he raised an eyebrow. "It gives me satisfaction just thinking about it. To know that there is no man I can't influence to do anything. A man you cannot corrupt or buy, you must destroy. I hate the unattainable ideal that you love so passionately, Yashiro. It would amuse me to prove the futility of your quest."

"Why do you care?"

"Because that slug was right about one thing: your desire to complicate your life. Your quest is only going to bring you suffering. What you lack in conformity, you make up for in innocent tenacity that can be exploited by others."

"Why are you telling me all this, you think you're going to make me think like you?" Yashiro's voice sharpened, and her eyes, once contemplative, now bore into Touma's with an intense and challenging glare.

"No. I'm telling you this because I want to be honest with me and with you. I know you see me as the symbol of your contempt for people. I'm an element of your own destruction."

"I never thought… you'd understand."

"And I accept that. Just... it's rare to see this kind of expression in a girl," he raised an eyebrow with genuine amusement.

"What expression?"

"Men express their contempt in different ways, sometimes even through sexual acts. I once knew a married man who indulged in such behavior. Hard to believe, isn't it?" Touma's voice carried a tinge of exasperation as he recounted the anecdote. His brows furrowed, and his gaze shifted to Yashiro, his expression softening with a hint of curiosity. "Being here is a way of expressing your contempt for me."

"No, Touma. For myself," Yashiro's response was accompanied by a faint frown, her lips tightening as she spoke.

"Most people strive to convince themselves of their own worth and to prove to others that they have it," Touma's arms relaxed slightly, and he regarded her with an analytical gaze, as if probing her thoughts.

"Yes."

"And the constant search for your own worth is a clear sign that you lack it," Touma's words carried a weight of observation, his tone almost clinical in its assessment.

"That's true."

"Can you see what this pursuit of your own contempt means?" his eyes narrowed as he studied her. "That you will always be in a cycle of self-rejection and self-destruction. No matter how hard you try to despise yourself, you will never truly achieve it."

"I wish I could force myself to believe that," Yashiro sighed and shook her head.

"Even with all your self-reliance, you find it challenging to embrace the one person you should truly know… yourself," he let out a faint smile, making her frown.

Yashiro's gaze remained locked with Touma's. Outside the classroom, the distant hum of students returning from break grew louder. Suddenly, the peaceful solitude of the classroom was shattered as the door swung open, and a group of students burst inside, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Yashiro's attention shifted from Touma to them.

Touma's expression remained unchanged, but he turned his attention to the students, watching them file into the classroom with a practiced ease. As Yashiro stood up from her seat, he rose as well, his gaze meeting hers in silence.

As Yashiro moved towards the door, Touma fell into step beside her, the transition seamless as they navigated the ebb and flow of students. The hallway pulsed with activity, a snapshot of the academic world in motion. Just before she crossed the threshold of the classroom, Touma paused, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his head to address her.

"No more climbing buildings," he stated, his tone carrying a firmness that was tempered by a hint of concern.

Yashiro's brows furrowed slightly, and she met his gaze without flinching. She did not offer an immediate response, her eyes holding a mixture of determination and contemplation. The corner of Touma's mouth twitched upward, and he nodded towards the exit, a subtle encouragement for her to go.

With a final look, Yashiro turned and walked away, her steps carrying her towards the bustling student body. Touma watched her go, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the classroom, ready to fulfill his role as an educator once more.

As he stepped into the classroom, a subtle transformation overcame Touma's countenance. His features shifted imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a controlled yet inviting smile. His eyes, once focused and penetrating, softened slightly as he surveyed the students. With a confident stride, he moved to the front of the room, his presence commanding attention.