Although this unexpected encounter hindered Arashi's already limited time, he didn't mind. The sun was almost rising, 'I'll exert more force than I wanted to. I'll try to make it quick.' Arashi knew what had to be done. He made his hand seal and quickly flickered into the room.
A sudden shattering of glass pierced the air, making his entrance. "Aaah!" A man's terrified scream echoed through the compound as he plummeted from the fourth floor, crashing onto the unforgiving concrete below.
From within the building, faint cries and the sounds of a fierce struggle reached the forest. Flickering lights danced across the windows, and a flurry of kunai and shuriken hurtled out, embedding themselves in the surrounding trees. Each floor was marked by splatters of blood, a grim testament to Arashi's deadly efficiency.
By the time Arashi reached the tenth floor, his mask was smeared with blood, and his weapons were equally stained. He strode down the corridor, wiping his katana on his sleeve. Finally, he halted in front of a sturdy door and grinned. "Next on my list is Daichi Nakamura," he murmured, his voice a low growl.
Arashi reached out, his hand coming into contact with the door. Infusing it with a burst of lightning chakra, he delivered a powerful jolt, causing the door to shatter into pieces.
As the remnants of the broken door cascaded to the ground, Arashi stepped into the opulent office, his presence both silent and imposing. The room was shrouded in dimly lit shadows, with the cityscape outside the window as the sole illumination source. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, scanning the room intently. He found Daichi facing the window, sitting motionless in a tall chair.
Arashi approached him cautiously, his katana still in hand. "Daichi Nakamura," he said, his voice steady. The figure in the chair didn't move. It was as if he were dead.
But he wasn't. Arashi knew the reason why. He spun the chair with a flick of his katana, his Rinnegan piercing through the illusion. 'Genjutsu,' he realized. Arashi firmly grasped Daichi's shoulder and infused his chakra into him, commanding, "Release!"
As Daichi broke free from the genjutsu, his eyes widened in terror, and he let out a horrifying scream, "Aaah!" Yelling and pulling out his hair as if his head was on fire.
Arashi swiftly struck his face, silencing him. "Shut up," he growled, gripping Daichi's collar and pulling him closer. "I don't know what happened here, but you should only concern yourself with me right now. If genjutsu is what you fear, then I'm your worst nightmare..."
Daichi, visibly shaken, stammered, "I—I don't know what you want! I'll tell you everything! Just-just spare my life."
Arashi's still, sharp gaze flickered with something akin to pity. "Rushing him will only worsen the aftereffects of the genjutsu." He moved with practised efficiency, pouring Daichi a glass of water. He added a few drops of a shimmering, almost ethereal liquid from a small, intricately carved flask.
Daichi, his skin clammy and his stomach churning, managed a weak, "Wh-what... is that?" His voice was a raw rasp, each word a painful effort.
Arashi's response was curt, devoid of sympathy. "Silence."
He slid the glass across the rough wooden table, the metallic glint of his drawn katana emphasizing the command. "Drink."
Daichi, desperate for relief, grasped the glass with trembling hands. The cool water was a welcome balm, but the strange liquid left a faint, floral aftertaste, almost metallic. Arashi's thoughts clinically detailed what he poured into the glass as he swallowed. 'Extract of white lotus petals. Chakra-sensitive but diluted. It's a genjutsu detox of sorts. Side effects are unavoidable.'
Daichi slammed the empty glass down, his breath ragged. A shudder ran through him, his eyes widening. "Aaah..." His pupils dilated, and a faint tremor shook his limbs. The room seemed to sharpen, the air thick with the residue of the illusion.
Arashi, his expression unreadable, wasted no time. "Tell me about your operation in Takigakure. Who sent you here?" Arashi's question was sharp, cutting through the lingering haze of the genjutsu.
Daichi flinched, his eyes darting between Arashi's unwavering gaze and the glint of the katana resting on the table. He swallowed, the metallic tang of fear mixing with the lingering aftertaste of the lotus extract. "They... they call themselves the Akatsuki. They funded the operation, but... they threatened me! I swear!" His voice, though still weak, held a desperate edge.
Arashi's eyes narrowed. "Akatsuki?" He leaned forward, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "What did they want? And what about this 'terrorist group' you were forming? Details, now."
"There's no... no new group! It was a lie!" Daichi stammered, his eyes wide with terror. "All of it! A lie!"
Arashi's frown deepened, a cold suspicion settling in his eyes. "Explain. Everything."
Tears welled in Daichi's eyes, his body trembling. "He... he wanted me to tell you to stop."
"Stop what? Who are you talking about?" Arashi pressed, his voice taut with urgency.
"He said... his name was... R-"
A wet, sickening thwack echoed through the room.
Arashi's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. A crimson spray painted the air, a grotesque halo around Daichi's slumped form. He blinked, the red blurring his vision. He wiped his face, his hand coming away slick and hot.
Daichi remained seated, his posture now a macabre slide, his head missing, a gruesome fountain of blood and scattered brain matter erupting from his neck. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the coppery tang of death.
Arashi stared for a moment, his expression grim. 'Man, that was nasty,' he thought, wiping blood from his face. 'It was only two seconds, but I saw an influx of Yin Release. Daichi was placed in a delayed genjutsu, a powerful one that overwhelmed him. Just as he was about to reveal his boss's name, too.'
Arashi stepped out of the office, shielding his eyes from the blinding rays of the rising sun. "Damn it," he muttered. "I'll have to come up with an excuse for being late." He left the building using the main entrance, this time, though it hardly mattered now.