In the heart of Tokyo's Nagatacho district, the normally bustling streets lay subdued under the watchful eyes of the military and the state of emergency. Amid the tension, Arashi navigated the streets with a sense of familiarity and urgency. His stride was determined, long hair trailing behind him like a banner of purpose. He moved with the agility of a shadow, threading through alleys and side streets, always mindful of the soldiers patrolling nearby.
Arashi was a stark contrast to the black coats that most of Völundr's followers used during their first official meeting. Clad in a pink kimono and gray haori and hakama, he embraced traditional Japanese clothing that set him apart even from the soldiers whose Westernized uniforms drew inspiration from Prussia’s.
His thoughts raced as he maneuvered through the complex alleys. The bomb's potential location weighed heavily on his mind, and his intuition led him here. With each step, his determination intensified. "The National Diet Building or even the Imperial Palace" he muttered to himself. However, he hated the idea of being right.
Breathless and focused, Arashi pushed his body to its limits, dashing against the ticking clock. "The National Diet," he repeated, striding more like a ninja than a samurai. A sense of urgency propelled him forward, and his wristwatch offered a reminder of the impending seconds.
Arashi's determination propelled him into the government complex once he arrived at his destination, his katana guiding the way. Confronted by police officers blocking the gates to the building, he moved with grace and precision. The clash of metal against metal rang in the air as his katana deflected bullets, his swift movements rendering him a dance of defiance against the imminent danger.
As the seconds dwindled to a crescendo, Arashi's swords became extensions of his will. With a flourish, he unleashed a whirlwind of strikes that painted the air with a symphony of colors. The kinetic energy he wielded was a testament to his prowess, leaving an iridescent trail in its wake as he knocked out the officer. As he had planned, he pierced the security barriers and sprinted through the gardens toward the building’s entrance.
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Yet, amidst this display of artistry and skill, a dozen police officers followed in pursuit. Their footsteps echoed after clicking the pavement as they gained ground. Undeterred, Arashi reached the building's entrance and, with sheer force, willed his way in.
Now inside, he noted everybody had evacuated. The National Diet felt deserted. Yet, he couldn’t and wouldn’t stand still. He continued forward through the hallway opening ahead of him, not knowing where he went.
However, time was a cruel adversary. An explosion erupted through the hallowed halls of the National Diet Building, a forceful gust of wind cascading outward. The powerful disruption that followed rippled through the district, its impact far-reaching. Amidst the aftermath, Arashi stood unyielding, his instincts whispering that something wasn't right.
But the remnants of this fierce blast were evident upon him. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, and shards of glass protruded from his right thigh and abdomen. “I have failed,” he groaned, gritting his teeth while assessing his injuries. "Thankfully, I ate Völundr's apple. This wound could have been fatal," he murmured, his voice a testament to his resilience as he extracted the shards.
Scowling, he knew he needed to escape. His gaze flickered looking for an exit, his mind a whirl of strategies. But before he could formulate a plan, the sound of determined footsteps echoed in the corridor behind. Police officers surged into the building; their numbers formidable as they converged on his location.
Adrenaline surged as Arashi's instincts kicked into overdrive. With swift, calculated precision, he deflected the bullets of his pursuers, skillfully neutralizing their advances without causing harm.
A series of controlled moves and calculated strikes using the blunt edge of his katana to send several officers reeling, incapacitated but unharmed. Amid the chaos, Arashi seized his chance, dashing toward an adjacent corridor. The clatter of unconscious bodies marked his passage.
Navigating the building's unknown layout, Arashi's senses guided him toward an exit, each turn a careful choice. The pulse of his heartbeat matched the rhythm of his steps and the echo of his breath amplified the tension in the air.
Finally, a glimpse of sunset light greeted him as he burst through a side door at the opposite side of the building, freedom beckoning just beyond. With a last, lingering glance back at the building he had infiltrated and the police officers he had incapacitated nowhere to be found, Arashi reached the gates and disappeared into the approaching night.