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The elevator let out a beeping noise as a result of fingers lingering on the up button.
It shook Akane out of her reverie as she gazed into the vacant space of the lift - a jolting reminder that time was a precious commodity and wasting it on phantoms would be considered inefficient. Still, she could hear his defeated exhale and his one syllable lie, the answer forced from his lips though her question had been sincere.
A soft sigh escaped her as she crossed the door track and turned to face forward, watching the pale red door inch to a close before shutting her eyes. Perhaps she did have a knack for remembering trivial things.
Only, they weren’t trivial. They were important.
When the elevator reached the upper floor, she stepped out and made her way to the balcony area.
Past the automatic doors, a faint breeze tousled her brown hair in the waning light of day. The fading sun cast a long shadow behind her which stretched and angled itself once she leaned against the railing.
She looked out at the city, or what she could see of it from her vantage point anyway - the skyscrapers, the helicopter landings, the bridges - and the people moving along the streets from building to building, living out their lives as recommended under Sibyl’s judgment.
Of course, there were exceptions to this regulated system. Rare case anomalies who followed their instincts and pursued their own beliefs and ideologies, opposing Sibyl in the process.
Akane reached into her pocket and withdrew an aged letter from a certain deviant. In quiet moments like these, she longed for pieces of him that he left behind. Tenderly unfolding the paper, she pressed against the creases with gentle finger tips to flatten it. The soft sheet sagged between her hands as she prepared to read the contents, though she had already memorized all the words.
‘I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise.’
The first line reopened an old wound for the hundredth time.
She absentmindedly brushed her thumb over it, remembering the first time she read these words. The way her heart dropped because she knew what they meant. The apologetic opening that suggested the rest of the letter would just be an excuse.
‘I wanted to go into a line of work where I could protect people. That's why I became a detective.’
Without a doubt, he was a natural. She reflected on moments in which he provided guidance when she felt hesitant, reassurance when she needed it most, or when he carried her in steady arms to safety. While his martial arts and investigative skills were learned traits, Kogami possessed an innate desire to protect others. It was a quality that led people to respect and trust him. And she too had wanted to trust him and his promise - to stand alongside him as an equal, a detective, and not an owner. This was the part of him she had rigorously strived to protect.
‘But Makishima changed everything. That man will continue to kill people. And yet, the law can't judge him. As long as I'm a detective, I can't touch him.’
Her grip tightened, crinkling the letter’s sides. Even if they seemed like two sides of the same coin, the sides faced opposite directions. While Makishima manipulated others, toying with them and enabling them with samples of power to test their souls and worth, Kogami only ever pushed himself forward with inhuman drive. She had counted on him to help her bring Makishima to justice legally - instead of choosing the trigger.
At one point, Akane recalled proposing to have Makishima stand for trial and to enforce judgment by a temporary return to the old court system. A means of preserving Kogami’s detective status and place in society. However, Kogami could sense the truth behind Sibyl’s ploys even without proper evidence. When it became clear that the law couldn’t or wouldn’t judge Makishima fairly, Kogami’s fixation on stopping Makishima seized priority over abiding by the law. This letter was written proof that he hungered for a more direct approach, something he could dig his teeth into, a final conclusion to his man hunt.
‘This case made me aware that the law can't protect people. In that case, my only option is to step outside the law.’
Akane shook her head from side to side. The law can’t protect people, but people can protect the law. If only she had been able to share this heartfelt conviction with him, maybe he would’ve considered some other alternative. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. She lifted her eyes from the page and gazed at the darkening horizon in the distance. There was no opportunity for rebuttal before he disappeared with a murder in his wake, and by then it was too late.
In a distant memory, Kogami once claimed he was an enforcer with nothing to lose. Back then, she could only listen quietly as he explained how it was his burden to do the dirty work—not hers. He wanted her to use him for the purpose of making Makishima pay for crimes committed. Of course, Akane didn’t share his opinion, but she also lacked a means to protect him if he pursued that path. And, this prospect of losing him scared her. It was a precarious situation to be in until she gained agency through Sibyl to chase him down.
It may have been arrogant of her to think she could restore his favor with the system and prevent him from becoming a killer. Yet, in the moment, she wanted nothing more. From negotiations with Sibyl to analyzing his every move, she worked relentlessly to hinder him from reaching Makishima first. And perhaps all for naught, since, in the end, she was unable to deter him and their paths diverged.
‘Akane Tsunemori... There is no doubt that your way of living is correct.’
She had read this letter so many times. To the point she feared it would wither away one day in her hands. And yet, her eyes still misted at this line.
Her full name. In fine, careful print. As if to validate his claim. All of her, everything she stood for, was acknowledged by him. His affirmation saved her when harrowing situations threatened her powder blue. When she was tempted to stray after the loss of her grandmother, his words kept her grounded.
‘Don't lose sight of that just because I betrayed you. I selfishly chose a different path solely in order to get my own way. I'm aware that this is a mistake. But I know I can only come to terms with my old self by taking the wrong path.’
Consistent in nature of being gentle with others but strict with himself, Kogami owned up to his broken promise. The sting never faded, and she knew too little about his past to try to understand; but, at the very least, his sincerity did not go unnoticed.
In retrospect, her greatest frustration and disappointment did not stem from his betrayal. The emotions arose from her own inability to veer him off course. Though she had strongly hoped to dissuade him, it was somewhat gratifying that he had made a choice without outside influence. He had carved his path, agonized and accepted it in the trailblazing. Sibyl had no place there.
Reading between the lines, Akane could sense his struggle to reconcile past and present. Despite an eagerness to avenge his deceased friend, there was also guilt and self-reproach in abandoning his mother, MWPSB division one, and his homeland. Still, she had suspected he wasn’t the type to backtrack from a decision, even if it would cost him dearly. She was right.
‘I won't say forgive me. The next time we meet, you'll be in a position to judge me. When that time comes, fulfill your duty with no mercy. Don't turn your back on your beliefs.’
Akane ran her fingers over tear stains in the margin. Enough time had passed for her to know she could handle more than she thought she could. As Inspector, her case assignments challenged her on a daily basis and tested her character. Perseverance and determination built mental fortitude and experience fostered maturity.
Flashbacks of Yuki still haunted her, but Akane had the reassurance that no one else would fall victim to Makishima’s wiles because of Kogami’s choice - ending a life to save other lives. It almost seemed ironic that in breaking his promise to stay a detective, he remained true to his original intent for becoming one. As such, she could never bring herself to judge him with a dominator, even if he was willing to die by her hands. Even if it was her duty. For as long as Sibyl continued to rely on her for counsel on reformation, she would confront the system again and again on his behalf.
Before they met again, she would hone her combat and analysis skills. She would not be left picking up the pieces of his observations. She would not fall a step behind. She would become stronger so she could reassert her beliefs to him with confidence. The next time they met, she vowed to bring him back.
‘Although it was only for a short time, I feel fortunate that I was able to work under you. Thank you.’
She let out a shaky breath, acutely reminded of his missing presence. It was indeed too short a time. If there was another opportunity to work with him, she would take it gladly. And if there wasn’t, she would make one. She refused to let their partnership end this way. Besides, there were lingering sentiments she hadn’t sorted out and she was sure not all of them could be categorized as gratitude.
Slipping her hand into her pocket, her fingertips found the pack of cigarettes at the bottom - the weight of them growing ever more familiar as her responsibilities increased. It was becoming customary for her to light one on particularly involved cases, especially when she sought after inspiration or deep concentration.
Even now she still harbored some feelings of weakness or inadequacy. She needed him. A dependence she couldn’t shake. Not necessarily in terms of performance since she was on par with his level of detailed analysis, but in terms of companionship and trust. Both were not easily obtained in her field and losing someone she could discuss matters with and gain feedback from caused her more grief than anything else.
Before she worked with him, she had never shown an interest in cigarettes. Now, they acted as a replacement in his stead, tracing back to things he said and moments they shared. She had to make a conscious effort not to become addicted.
She tapped the Spinel pack once on her palm, loosening a cigarette out. Pinching it between forefinger and thumb, she brought a lighter to the end and watched it glow red then ash gray. The other side never met her lips, and her gaze moved from monitoring the chemical changes to the tendrils winding into the sky.
The sight filled her with nostalgia. Akane missed the days when she and Kogami stole away from their desks to chat on open balconies or rooftops. His cigarette filling the air with smoke as if a cloud had descended and they were caught in it. In her memories, he always smelled like fire, like a revolution incarnate, and part of her wanted to burn with him.
Staring at the silhouette of the moon in the darkening sky, she wondered about how he was doing. In her opinion, he didn’t seem like the type to regret and he was too diligent to stay idle. Wherever he traveled, she mused that many would gravitate toward him once they learned of his leadership qualities and, in turn, he would hold himself accountable for everyone. As the smoke dissipated, she returned the letter for safekeeping into her pocket, still clinging to his words like she did when they were together, and smothered the lit end of the cigarette in a tray. It was a selfish thought, but she hoped his losses resonated enough for him to miss her the way she missed him, if only to compensate for leaving her alone on a balcony with air too clear for her taste.