Psycho Pass: Apology Of An Endgame

10

The wide ocean opened in front of him with buildings and skyscrapers that never slept. The towering Rainbow Bridge was illuminated with soothing lights that dominated that cold dark night. To his right, the replica of the Statue of Liberty loomed over trees looking out over the city. It was a place where nature and human will merged. Still, it was not this beautiful and mesmerizing view that had stopped him, but the figure sitting all alone in one of the benches of the observation deck, watching the water ahead as if looking for answers in the waves.

With her hands on her knees and her head slightly turned to the side, she overshadowed the luxurious city with her simple presence—she did not need expensive clothes, ostentatious jewelry, or makeup like other women, for she was a force that humbled her environment by herself. He came closer without making a sound, and when he sat down next to her, she took a deep breath.

He thought of the power he possessed at that moment—of how simple it would be for him to smother her and then make her disappear. That thought gave him pleasure, a sense of power and at the same time of submission to her, for he knew he could never wield such power. He was capable of extinguishing a life if he deemed it necessary, and his hand would not tremble in doing so, yet nothing conceivable could compel him to do the same with this woman. Of the two, it was he who felt powerless at that very moment.

"It's cold out here. Why don't you go home?" he suggested resting his left arm on the stone back.

It was then that Yashiro widened her eyes, barely tilting her head in his direction as if she were trapped in her own thoughts. Once again, they had not greeted each other—it was like a moment out of something that had never ended. He would find it strange whether either of them ever dared say "hello" to the other. He never said that to himself in the morning.

They had not heard from her for days—she had not even spoken to Choe. When he went to her apartment—the address of which he could easily find on his own—all he received in the corridor was a darkness and a silence that he would otherwise have considered relaxing. Her neighbors were used to her coming and going, for she did not usually stay too long in her apartment, unless it was to sleep or spend time with her cat.

Like a nomad, she would sometimes return to her apartment and then to the world, looking for something to keep her mind busy. Yashiro had no family left, and if she did, the only link between them was blood. He knew she would turn herself in from the very moment she pleaded guilty, though he would have never believed that Choe—who was nothing like him, yet a man he would trust with his life—would let her go.

She was about to turn her face to him, but released a sigh and lifted her head again to stare at the sea. Then she asked in a low voice, "How did you feel the first time you realized you were like a ghost?"

His eyes widened with a spark of perplexity, yet a nostalgic smile was drawn on his lips as he looked over the ocean.

"I felt powerful. And then..."

His voice was as solemn and enveloping as that of a politician making an important statement—it was the first time he had ever opened up to anyone else about those feelings.

"Then?"

He crossed a leg over the other, resting his free hand on his thigh, "I felt lonely."

His face relaxed as if that shine of her was truly a mirror staring back at him. He was looking right at the other half of himself—a reflection that had been there all along, and which he would look at all the time. In the end, he was not the only one walking in that empty land.

"The detectives knew I was with Sasayama," she finally dared to whisper. "But I changed the end of the story. I lied to their faces. It was so easy to do... and yet they distrusted me. They had a hunch that I was guilty. But reason prevailed again—because reason must prevail. Remember that old novel by Zamyatin?"