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"Today is the day I win."
He looks up to the woman in front of him, who has an unmistakably smug grin on her face, "You're looking pretty confident already. I guess you have come up with a strategy."
Putting a hand on her hip while the other pushed her wavy hair away from her face, she shifts closer to him, making him more aware of her coercive presence, "I wonder."
He stares at the way the black strands fall back just above her shoulders for a moment and gets up from the gym floor. His lips curl up to a smirk since he's now towering her with his height, and she can't look down on him anymore, "No sly tricks, I hope."
"Oh please, as if I can pull any tricks on your smart ass."
Kougami is wary of her smile. He always has been since the first day he met the woman. When Hanashiro first introduced her to them as the new Tactical Advisor of their department, he could feel there was something strange about the woman. She felt like a ghost, but not the type he was familiar with. Her presence was too tangible and sizable for her to be just another vision. He felt completely transparent under her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of professor Saiga — reading people based on psychological clues. Maybe she was doing the same. But there was still something unsettling about her. Hanashiro proceeded to state she possessed a valuable skill set no one else on the team had. She was a former spy, codename Alex, real name unknown , nationality unknown , she obviously wasn't from Japan even though, as he discovered, later on, her Japanese was a little too good. Her being a spy explained a lot of things. What it didn't explain was why The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was trusting her enough to have her work for them. Now, less than a year later, he knows.
"I'm not as smart as you think I am."
She chuckles, her voice low with a hint of sarcasm, "Now, you're just being cocky."
She starts walking around him, and he starts doing the same resulting in them walking in circles, never breaking eye contact. She is clearly searching for an opening to attack. When it comes to martial arts, she has already admitted that Kougami is the better fighter between the two. Even though almost all their sparring matches end in ties except a couple of times where Kougami has won. Yet, she is sure she's going to win today. Is she finally going to resort to her manipulation tricks?
He wills himself to stop thinking. He knows the woman in front of him pretty well. He knows the fight started the moment she declared she was going to win. With her, it is never just about physical combat but mental too. And that was the field where she excelled, and he lacked a great deal of in comparison. Sometimes she reminds him of Makishima with the way she is able to manipulate people. Even though Makishima Shougo did everything with a clear objective in mind, people naturally gravitated towards him. But Alex doesn't need people to gravitate towards her for her to play with their minds. She is quite literally a professional manipulator.
He has witnessed it. She was able to turn a person's normal hue to a crime coefficient over 200 by simply talking to them. Emotional manipulation. Mental pressure. Psychological strain. She is a master at it. She would corner the person she was interrogating, find their weak points, and hit those points continuously until she would get the information she needed. It was terrifying to see to what extent that kind of manipulation could go. On the other hand, when she would go on cover missions, she would do the same without the target noticing by asking the right questions and psychologically cornering them. She would transform herself into an entirely different person to fit the mission — an excellent actress. Was that what it meant to be a spy?
However, she and Makishima Shougo had some other core differences. Makishima went to great lengths to see how strong people's wills were in a society where free will had become meaningless. Kougami understood his drive. But with her, it was difficult to see what the drive was. And after asking her what her main resolve was for being such a brilliant manipulator, she simply said that it was curiosity about the way humans think and an immense desire to make them think about things they don't want to.
"I think, therefore I am. Thinking is what makes humans self-aware. What makes them understand and accept the reality they live in, however painful it may be. There's no doubt you'll be happier if you just don't think like, for example, Sibyl's puppets, who have their whole life sort out for them. But are they really living?"
In the end, he drew the line between Makishima and Alex, where one wanted to control people, the other wanted to learn from them, even though in a quite twisted way. And while for Makishima manipulating was a way to prove a point — for her, at the end of the day, it is simply her job.
She suddenly stops on her tracks, grunting and crossing her arms over her chest, "This is so annoying," she pouts, and he wonders how such a terrifying woman can turn into a child in a matter of seconds, even though, he's not sure if she's acting or not, "You literally have no openings. How am I supposed to attack?"
"Didn't you have a strategy?"
"Don't push your luck, pretty boy."
"I thought Gino was the pretty boy," saying that he can feel Ginoza's gaze piercing his back from the end of the gym on the treadmill where he is talking with Sugou.
"I can't believe I'm stuck with you three," she scoffs, reaching for her water bottle.
"Are you going to attack, or are you trying to distract me, Alex? Because it's not working."
"You seem impatient, Kou. What is it? Are you thinking about the love of your life? Your Spinels?"
He almost wants to laugh at that, "You're not wrong, actually."
When he tries to make eye contact again, all he sees is her water bottle flying towards him in a manner where he can't see her — of course, he can't, — and he doesn't have time to dodge the bottle, instead, he focuses on guessing the direction of her attack. Left? Right? Instinctively he tries to move so that the bottle doesn't hit his face, then he finally sees her strike his right shin just below his knee so that to throw him off balance. Everything is happening too fast, but somehow he anticipates she's going for the liver, so he blocks her chop with his right forearm and uses his body weight to push her back. He immediately moves to knee her in the guts, but she swiftly backflips her way out of his reach. He can't help but notice how the former spy's movements are feather-light and inaudible.
When she gets back up, she is fuming and ready to throw a childish fit, "You are so annoying! Where's the fun in a fight where I can't even land one hit on you?"
"Well, I didn't really land a hit on you either," he knows his advantage is the fact that he is bigger and weighs more than her, and her advantage against him is her unmatched flexibility.
She starts walking again, and he does the same, "You know what, Kou? Maybe you should finally be a gentleman and let me win for once."
He squints at her, "I don't think you'd want that. On the contrary, if you so much sense that I'm letting you win on purpose, I'd end up with broken limbs."
She wholeheartedly laughs at his remark. Both Ginoza and Sugou, who had moved from the treadmills to the bench press, look their way. They obviously are observing the fight, and her bright laugh doesn't go unnoticed.
"We've worked together for like what? Nine months? Ten? And you already know me so well. I'm impressed, Kou."
"I don't think the water bottle was your strategy to win, was it?"
She decides not to humor him with an answer and instead leaves him hanging, the smug smirk never leaving her face. It is easy to forget what this professional manipulator is capable of when she's being all cheerful and playful. He knows her game, so he wills himself to stop thinking again. If he starts overthinking about what her strategy might be, he will fall into her trap. He knows the best way to deal with someone who can manipulate his thoughts is to keep his mind blank.
"Let me ask you a question, Kou. Who do you think are the worst type of opponents you could face?"
"The calculative and manipulative ones?"
She grins, shaking her head, "I'm pretty sure you have a blast with those types of opponents. After all, they are intellectually stimulating, aren't they?"
He doesn't answer, she continues, "Well, for me, the worst type of opponents are the ones who aren't afraid of death."
The air in the gym suddenly feels stiffer as he pauses for a moment, "Are you implying I'm one of those opponents?" he doesn't like where the discussion is going. He's suddenly walking on mined land.
"Think about it. People who don't fear death are reckless and unpredictable. Especially those who don't have a lifeline and are ready to throw their life away at any moment. Having no sense of danger, they have to be a pain to deal with, don't you think? The ' whatever happens, happens ' type of people."
He desperately wants her to change the topic or just attack him already, but despite himself, he takes her challenge, "Am I one of those 'whatever happens, happens' kinds of people?"
"Are you afraid of death?"
"Not really."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not one to go down easily."
"That confidence of yours baffles me, but that isn't a good reason not to fear death. Let me tell you the real reasons."
She pauses and then launches herself towards him, aiming to kick him on the face. He moves to his right to avoid the kick and tries to grab on her leg, "The first reason," she starts as she releases herself from his grasp, "is your self-deprecation," he takes a step back to ready himself for her second blow, and this time he stops her kick with both his arms crossed over his face and pushes her back, "The second reason is your selfishness." During her third attempt, he finally succeeds in grabbing her right leg so that she loses balance and allows herself to fall on the floor, pulling him forward, then using her left foot to strike him in the open area of the stomach. She throws him above her head, and he lands behind her. She quickly gets up from the floor, "Those two things don't usually go together, that's why you are kinda messed up."
He goes back to defense mode, and she attacks again. This time she gets close enough to grab his right arm and forcefully bring it behind his back, "You actually think you don't deserve to live. That's why you're simply ok with dying. You have done some things you can't forgive yourself for, so you let yourself drown in your self-loathing." He releases himself from her grip by sheer strength and catches a glimpse of her amused face in the process. That's when he decides to attack, her grin growing wider, seeing how worked up he is. She easily dodges all his punches and continues, "At the same time, Kou, you are selfish. You don't want to see the way you affect people in your life for your own peace of mind. Denying your relationships with others just so to feel like you have no bonds. Telling yourself that others don't care about you so that it would be easier for you to quite literally abandon them if you have to. But think about it," she slides to his left and elbows his ribs, he can feel the lingering pain for only a moment and reaches to grab her elbow and lock her in place.
"If you really do die because of your own recklessness," she lowers her voice to a whisper, now so close to him he can hear her breathing, " she'd be hurt, wouldn't she ?"
It's only for less than a second, but he can't help the way his chest tightens at her words. That is more than enough for her to see the opening. She strikes his chin from below with the heel of her hand, releases herself from his hold, and moves away from him just enough so to climb his shoulders and snake around his neck with such force, they both end up on the floor with a loud thud. And just like that, she has him locked between her thighs, unable to move. He starts struggling in a futile attempt to free himself, and she continues, "At the very very end, everyone is scared of death — in their own way — and the danger of it is always lurking just above your nose. So don't try to get your head too high, Kougami."
He sighs, she throws her arms in the air, "Win!"
After releasing him, she gets on her feet in a swift movement. He quickly sits up, watching as Sugou and Ginoza are approaching them, then looks back at her, "I thought you said no tricks."
She immediately puts up an act, "Tricks? What tricks? Would you care to share with our audience," she gestures towards Ginoza and Sugou, "what kind of trick did I exactly use to beat you?"
He sighs again, thinking how even if he were to explain it, it would be a different kind of win in her book.
"You really won, Alex. Congrats," Sugou speaks as he offers Kougami a hand to pull him up.
"Sugou, come here. You're next."
"I'd rather not."
"I said, come here. You need to practice."
Kougami reaches for his towel then makes his way to the bench where Ginoza is sitting. He sits down and tries not to crumble under the awkward silence.
"So," Ginoza finally speaks, "how exactly did she win?"
He carefully takes out a cigarette from his pack and lights it up, "By playing with my mind."
Ginoza turns his head to look at him, a glare threatening his features, "Playing with people's minds is her fighting style. You've never let her get you until today. Either you're losing your concentration, or she finally used some type of trump card."
He's silent.
"Or both. After all, it was a wholly one-sided fight."
Following a loud thud, they hear Alex's voice, "I can't believe we've been training together almost every day, and your stance is still this bad, Sugou. I could literally break your neck if I wanted to, and so would a skilled enemy."
"Ok, teacher, tell me what I'm doing wrong."
Kougami finishes the cigarette before he gets up to leave.
"Kougami," he stops, "Come back to reality, would you?"
He wordlessly resumes walking towards the exit, "Hey, pretty boy! Where do you think you're going? Frederica told us we're on stand by."
"I'm taking the day off."
Alex glares at him for a second then puts an amused face back on, "Ok fine then, we'll cover for you. Just don't forget to tell Akane I said hello," she manages to finish before he disappeares behind the exit door.
Ginoza sighs and gets up, "You just have to win till the end, don't you?"
"I'm a born winner," she chuckles.
"But seriously, did you wake up this morning with the only purpose of bullying him today?" Sugou also comments.
"Wait, what?" she continues laughing, "I'm not that mean, come on."
-
He really doesn't need Ginoza's icy glares to understand that he is currently not in the right state of mind. He'd kid himself if he thought Alex and her antics are the reason for it. He hasn't been in the right state of mind for a while now. The real reason for it is pounding like a hammer in the back of his head, but he regardlessly decides to ignore it. Acting like it's a bad headache that he hopes will go away if he neglects it long enough. Instead, he lets the shower run and allows the static-like noise to bring him back to his senses.
He curses Miss Perfect under his breath for, yet again, making him think about things he doesn't want to think about as a particular call from a lifetime ago starts playing in his head. He has been trying not to think of a certain someone by exhausting himself in the gym and doing anything else but staying alone with his thoughts. He feels his muscles sore for a moment, but then a numbness starts creeping in. When he gets in the shower, the water hitting his skin is too hot, but he doesn't bother adjusting it. He wants to be honest with himself because maybe then the numbness will stop. Maybe his surroundings will be within his grasp again, and he'll stop living as a ghost.
He looks down at his chest, where all his scars are clearly visible. His whole body is full of scares, proof that he is still alive, though not so much that he's actually living. His skin is still burning under the hot water, but his mind is delirious enough to visualize fingertips tracing his scars and leaving a trail of heat under his skin. He misses that. He misses her. He was hoping that accepting that fact would make him feel better, but instead, it makes him feel more miserable as he remembers the way she slightly tilts her head when she smiles at him. He hasn't seen her in a while — whose fault is it, though? He misses the way her nails dig into his skin, fingers buried in his hair, chest heavy as she whispers his name. He hates how vivid his visions can be. The sheer intensity of them draws upon him like a knife on a chalkboard. He can't stand it. He wants it to stop. Yet the visions are still there. Haunting him and his sanity.
As someone who is continuously haunted by ghosts and has been living like one, he likes to think he knows the difference between visions and reality. Every time Makishima appears to him, he wants to think that it's his alter-ego speaking. But she is a distinct type of ghost. One that lives under his skin and stops him from doing stupid things. She constitutes the logical, the sincere, and the gentle parts of him. He had been thinking about the reason why she — a very much alive person — had been haunting him like a ghost. He settled for the reason being the fact that he's always separated from her in one way or another. The universe simply doesn't want them in close vicinity — understandable. He would go for years without seeing her face once. Yet, when he did see her again, every time he saw her again, she felt like home. They were able to keep their promise of meeting as normal people even though that was just for a day. And at the end of that day, they both understood that they aren't normal and they'll probably never be.
One night was enough for her to ruin his sanity — holding him impossibly close, souls struggling to become one. One night was enough for him to discover every inch of her skin and memorize it like a treasure map. Yet, now he can't get rid of the hollowness in his chest. He feels incredibly hot. He wishes he could feel the comfort of her touch, and at the same time feels guilty for wanting to indulge in something that shouldn't have been attainable to him in the first place. Now the need for it is burning through his veins as something carnal awakes inside him, desperate to fill in the hollowness, and he feels like a drug addict.
He knows his obsessive nature is a problem. That very nature is the main reason why his life went downhill at a certain point. Even though he's not sure if he regrets it. He can't deny that with his recklessness, he is lucky enough to be alive, but something feels out of place. It feels like he's been part of a marathon he didn't sign up for, and he's been running towards something he'll never reach. What is he running towards? A normal life? Happiness? A ghost? He lost the right for the first two a long time ago, but maybe the last one is what fuels his current obsession.
Something he can't quite name is searing through his veins as he finally adjusts the water temperature and turns it ice cold so that to help him think clearly. But the water can't quell whatever fire is stirring up inside him. He lets it flow until it finally dawns on him. He doesn't know when, but somewhere, — somehow her ghost escaped from under his skin. Is that the reason for his hollowness? He wants to wreck his brain into thinking of a way to get rid of his languidness.
The only conclusion he reaches is that he needs a cigarette.
-
"What's on your mind?"
You.
And he almost wants to be cheesy, selfish, hypocritical enough to say that out loud. Almost. But not really. Instead, he removes the cigarette from his lips and watches as the puff of smoke he lets out dissolves in the wind, "Many things," he finally replies.
She gives him a puzzled look, indecisive if she wants to push the question any further. He watches as she grabs the takeaway cup of coffee and relishes on its warmth for a moment. The scene reminds him of how she once mentioned that her hands are always cold for some reason. He wants to take her small hands into his to warm them up, but then again — he can't. She is as she always has been. Ironically untouchable. Almost ghostlike.
"How are Gino and Sugou doing?"
"They're fine," he can't deny the awkwardness of the conversation. Small talk was never his thing — their thing. Yet, here they are both trying their hardest not to address the elephant in the room.
She leans back on her chair and takes a sip of her coffee, "Did Alex convince you to contact me?"
He freezes for a moment and guesses his shock is evident on his face by the way she raises a brow at him, "Why would Alex—" indirectly maybe she did. Or maybe that was her goal from the beginning. If that is true, then her methods are truly the cruelest. He mentally curses Miss Perfect again, leaning on his chair.
"You have been avoiding me for weeks, and then you suddenly want to see me."
"I haven't been avoiding you," lies, "I have just been busy with work."
It feels pointless to lie to her as she can see right through him. He had never been a good liar in the first place. However, he was willing to hold on to this one lie for his own sanity and forbearance. Again, she has a look on her face as if she's contemplating whether or not to push the matter further. Part of him wants her to, but the larger part of him wants her to let it go. He doesn't have the mental strength to argue with her right now, he just wants to enjoy her feeble presence for a short while.
Her eyes have never left his figure while he has never kept eye contact for longer than two seconds until now. So much for being poised. He feels very much pathetic, and certainly, he's not acting his age. He lights up his second cigarette.
She sighs, a defeated look on her face, "You're doing that thing of yours again, aren't you?"
"And what might this thing of mine be?"
"Oh, that's you trying to atone for sins that are not yours. That's you blaming yourself for things that are out of your control. Can you stop doing that already?" her tone is not scornful as it is fretful. She's obviously annoyed and has every right to be. He removes the cigarette from his lips to speak, "That's certainly not my intention."
"Kougami," she gives him that intense look of determination and sincereness with a glint on her eyes that pushes all kinds of buttons in him, and he's actually glad he can't reach for her, "My situation is something I brought upon myself."
He lets out a scathing laugh and can feel the distaste in his mouth, "Right, it is your fault and not that of the faulty, unreliable system. Sure."
"That's not the point. This is the present situation, and this is reality. Deal with it."
He can't help but find the way she's flustered extremely endearing, free from her usual calm and collected demeanor. He quietly chuckles, and she looks exasperated, "Stop sassing me," his laugh becoming contagious, so she also starts laughing mid-sentence.
"I really don't want to talk about this topic, so please tell me everything about what you have been doing," he puts his cigarette away on the ashtray, giving her his full attention.
The atmosphere suddenly feels lighter, and he wonders how long it's going to last. She has a half-smile on her face as her gaze wanders off somewhere behind him, "I haven't been doing anything exceptional. The recent cases have been tediously standard. I guess I should be happy things are calm. Working with Kei and Arata is stimulating enough. They are an interesting duo. Alex has also been around, and that has made things ten times more entertaining."
"What exactly is she doing at the PSB? Hanashiro never filled us in about that," he interrupts. Plus, asking Alex directly would be too tiresome.
"I'm not sure. The details must be confidential, apparently. I'm guessing some type of consulting. Or maybe she's doing some interrogations. It's not like we can talk about our jobs together. But she's always much enthusiastic to train with me and to bicker with Arata. She's a great instructor," she pauses and lifts the coffee cup to her lips, "Homura seems to adore her."
He grimaces at the mention of that name as he reaches for his cigarette again. Alex is not exactly the one that guy adores , and that thought alone somehow annoys him. He almost wants to ask her if she is bothered by that fact, but he thinks better of it, lets it slide, "Knowing Alex, I'd say she's got an agenda of her own besides whatever job she's doing. She's too...crafty."
She laughs at his remark, and it strikes him how much he loves seeing her so carefree. A brisk wind suddenly blows on the high balcony they're sitting, and the way her figure stays static is a cruel reminder of their reality. He would love to see her hair flutter in the wind. He would love to reach for her hair, for her face. Maybe this is for the best. Her hands are still on her coffee cup, the coffee now probably cold, but she holds on to is as though she needs something material to prove she's not hallucinating.
She lifts the cup once again, and noticing the silence that fell between them, she askes the same question as before, "What's on your mind?"
She has a peaceful look on her face. His heart feels heavy, and without meaning to, he speaks what's been bothering him on the back of his mind all morning.
"If I were to die, would you be sad or angry at me?"
She freezes — the glimmer in her eyes gone as she furrows her brows. She peers into his eyes as if she is searching for something. Suddenly, a PSB mascot hologram appears beside her — funny — announcing that there's a dangerous spike in her Psycho-Pass and showing her a graph. But she's too busy to pay any attention to it as she still hasn't found what she's looking for in his eyes. A few seconds pass, and she finally finds it, even though he's not sure what. She visibly relaxes her body as she leans back on the chair. The graph is also showing that her hue is gradually getting clearer — she's incredible — and the mascot disappears.
"Where is this coming from?" the cup that was frozen midair finally moves to meet her lips.
He stiffens, "I was reminded of that phone call years ago. I was just wondering how you would feel if you were to stumble upon my corpse now after years," he breathes as he muses on his next words, "It's silly, don't mind it."
"I would feel the same way you would. I would feel both sad and angry, but in the end," she pauses, closing her eyes, and he doesn't see where she is going with this. But he most certainly doesn't like wherever she is going with it.
"I would blame myself," she concludes in a quiet voice he can barely hear.
Oh.
The reason why he didn't see that response coming is because he thinks he is the hypocritical one between the two. He is the one who would claim one thing and do the opposite. He is the one who would indulge in that kind of selfishness. But he undoubtedly heard the guilt in her voice. And as much as he wants to tell her she shouldn't feel that way for something that is out of her control, he would also be a hypocrite.
After a few seconds of staring into space, she finally meets his eyes. Determination is reflected in them, and he knows she will stand by her response even if it makes her a hypocrite. He smiles softly at her while crushing his cigarette on the ashtray, "That's a good answer," he finally speaks.
Her features soften again, and there's peace in the way they find ease in each other's hypocrisy like that. He wonders if normal couples do that too, but they wouldn't know. She gets up from her chair to move around. His eyes follow her figure as she stands near the balcony's handrail, her arms locked behind her back, looking at the horizon, "I didn't know the MFA's building was located in such a fancy spot. The view is wonderful."
The sun is shining just above her head, giving the illusion of reflecting on her skin. It is probably already 11 in the morning, but there's still a freshness in the air as a light breeze blows. He also gets up from his chair and moves to stand next to her. She turns around to face him, and he leans over to grab the steel handrail on both sides, trapping her figure between his arms.
She turns her head back to the horizon, "The view is breathtaking, isn't it?"
"It sure is," he replies without taking his eyes off her.
"Are you even looking at the view?" she giggles, now facing him, "You still haven't told me what you have been doing," she speaks while looking up at him.
He leans over a bit and looks down at his shoes, "I have not been doing anything worth telling," except agonizing over her and her situation , but he can't possibly talk about that.
"Don't you have work today?"
"I took the day off."
"You took the day off? Why? You weren't feeling well?"
"I wanted to see you."
"You took the whole day off because you wanted to see me? Aren't you quite the drama queen?"
That's when he looks up and gazes into her eyes intently, "Says the one who had a literal breakdown over the idea of me dying."
She pouts, narrowing her eyes, "That wasn't funny. Never do that again," she stares at him for a moment before looking down at her wrist, a saddened look on her face, "I have to go. My break is over, but you better enjoy your day off. It is such a beautiful day, go out, and have fun."
He chuckles wryly, "Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."
"I mean it. Stop sulking over pointless things and just enjoy the day."
He diverges his gaze from hers, and she moves slightly closer to him, but he absolutely hates the fact that he can't feel her presence, "Hey," her voice barely above a whisper, "Even staying at home reading a book is fine. Just try to relax, ok?"
She's then quiet for a moment, only the sound of the wind can be heard in the high balcony, "I have to go now."
His heart clenches at her words. He doesn't want her to go, but there's nothing he can do about it. He wants to say goodbye but utters something else instead.
"I miss you."
She stares at him with her soft brown eyes and lifts a hand to his cheek. He wants to lean on her touch, but there's nothing to lean on. And just like that, her hologram disintegrates, and her figure disappears into thin air like she was never there. Because she was never there. She was like she had always been. Ironically untouchable. Almost ghostlike. And no matter how hard he tries, he'll never catch her. She'll always be flitting in the wind and slipping through his fingertips.
He goes back to his apartment and considers taking another cold shower. Sitting on his bed and staring into space, he almost doesn't hear the incoming text message. He reluctantly looks at it. His languidness taking over him again.
I miss you too.
He probably needs another cigarette.