Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner Chapter 275 - 196

Minamoto Tamako stumbled a step, steadied her footing—it wasn’t the ti to lant yet—she had to get Mrs. Nakako upstairs, she couldn’t let Ono Ken’s sacrifice be in vain!

Thinking of this, she gritted her teeth and charged upstairs with all her might, pursued by the urgent sounds of chasing behind, the last flight of stairs seed particularly long.

She swore to herself that if she survived this, she would practice long-distance and short-distance running every day!

Faster! Faster!!

As she broke through shrouding fog in that split second, the air beca incredibly clear, as if surfacing from underwater, her lungs felt extraordinarily comfortable.

Imdiately after, a gunshot rang out behind her, a bullet grazed past her scalp, shocking her, causing a sudden loss of balance, about to fall to the ground!

Slap, a hand supported her body, before she could collect herself, that hand yanked fiercely, she felt herself soaring through the air, feet off the ground for a second, sailing across the corridor.

Looking up again, it was none other than Fushimi Roku who had pulled her.

"How did it end up like this?"

Fushimi, having heard the gunshots upstairs, initially planned to go down to help. Yet, he figured since gunfire had sounded, it ant the matter was resolved, and hence refrained from going down. He did trust Minamoto Tamako’s shooting skills—though slow in aiming, her shots were at least accurate.

During subsequent gunshots, he thought: ’Shot once/twice/thrice/four tis/five, surely dead by now, right?’

Upon hearing the sixth shot, Fushimi realized sothing was amiss.

He intended to descend, but heard Tamako say ’he went for diarrhea’, perceiving it as a warning not to go down, suspecting an ambush below, so he stood his ground at the corridor, ready to help Tamako.

As the seventh shot rang out, Tamako burst from the corridor, Fushimi pulling her to his side against the wall, inquiring what had unfolded.

Breathlessly, she briefed Fushimi Roku and before he could respond, footsteps echoed in the corridor once again.

Fukuyama Toshin presud that one shot had hit Tamako, causing her to fall, promptly seized the mont to pursue and ensure her demise with another shot.

Just ascending the stairs, a sharp wind passed by the back of his head, instinctively ducked, the blade slicing his scalp, shearing him into a diterranean hairstyle.

Startled, Fukuyama dove forward, sprawling on the corridor. Looking back, saw Ono Ken supporting himself against the corridor, knife in hand, a trail of blood behind him.

"Foolish woman... hiss..."

Touching his head, it was blood, stinging hot, incensed, he raised his gun aid at Ono Ken, jeering coldly: "So loyal, why not accompany your master in the grave!"

Gazing at the dark muzzle, buzzing in her ears, Ono Ken lacked strength to dodge, the second bullet hit her left shoulder, blood trickling still. Strained to keep pace, swung the last knife, reaching her limit.

She slightly opened her mouth, yet final words stuck in her throat. How to sum up her life?

Only ti for one sentence, a second’s room, before Fukuyama fired, she blurted out:

"I’ve entrusted it to you, sorry."

Fulfilling her samurai’s duty, completing her journey, facing the enemy, died with a knife—her finest end.

As Ono Ken prepared to close her eyes, familiar voice reached her ears, a silhouette arriving late but swiftly disard her knife. Fukuyama fired a round, those words echoed in her ears:

"That’s not how you use a sword."

A sharp ’clang’ sounded, the bullet split in two, remnants brushed past her cheek.

Ono Ken sat slump, dumbfounded, gazing wide-eyed, saw Fushimi Roku stand before her, knife in hand, flicked his blade.

At this mont, the knife was also the strongest shield.

Fukuyama Toshin stood agape, assuming the male criminal police officer upstairs to be an unard coward, but now realized what it ans that physique varies between people.

Perhaps coincidence...

Scrambling to his feet, backstepped, gun aid at Fushimi. He granted no respite, closing in swiftly as a ghost—shot thrice in panic but missed completely.

Blink of an eye, knife flash, lost sensation in his right hand, his arm severed flying away.

Fukuyama was stunned, right arm seared in pain, before recollecting, a knife was placed against his throat.

"Aren’t you going to stop the bleeding, Doctor Fukuyama," Fushimi smiled, "are you possessed by malevolent spirits too?"

Regaining composure, Fukuyama wobbly used his injured left hand to stem the bleed.

"I-I surrender..."

He sweated through the pain, but gritted teeth didn’t cry out, enunciated: "I’ve laid down arms...need treatnt now..."

Fushimi gave a knowing glance to Tamako, she didn’t imdiately react, assuming Mr. Fushimi wanted her to tend the suspect’s wounds, pouting reluctantly, stepping forth preparing to aid the injured suspect.

"Why?"

Fushimi looked puzzled: "Go check on Miss Ono!"

Realizing it, Tamako hastened to address Ono Ken first, feeling ashad for being misled by the suspect—a real miss!

Setting down Mrs. Nakako, ensuring her breathing was steady, rushed to the corridor aiding Ono Ken, who had only held on fueled by resolve; seeing Fukuyama apprehended, she fainted instantly.

Tamako, in frantic aid, attempted to stop the bleeding but couldn’t keep up with the grievous gunshot wound, exceeding her first aid capability.

At this rate, Ono Ken wouldn’t last long!

She turned to Fushimi for help.

"Why ask , isn’t there a doctor?" Fushimi removed the blade, gesturing Fukuyama Toshin to assist: "Saving a life exceeds building a seven-tier pagoda. Mr. Fukuyama was led astray by evil spirits, committing wrongs—here’s the chance for redemption."

Fukuyama didn’t budge, instead shifted sitting against the wall.

"I refuse."

He averted his face, swiftly contemplating escape—regardless of his cri, court trial awaited. Surrendered his weapon, left police without cause to act.

If matters turned dire, might let Aum Truth Sect find a breakout plan post incarceration...

"Oh well, a pity," Fushimi responded.

With that, Tamako self-managed, quickly tended Ono Ken’s wounds, sidestepping Fukuyama Toshin. He disregarded Fushimi, pondered gambling for another gun.

Before deciding, witnessed Fushimi lean down retrieving another police gun from his pocket, offering the grip beside his left hand. Fukuyama instinctively grasped, about to inquire its implication when Fushimi shouted: "Attack police again?! I warned you!"

What?

Knife flashed, Fukuyama’s vision rippled, spun seeing his headless body, clutching the police gun.

Despicable...

His mind’s final thought ford.

Fushimi flicked his long blade, scarcely shedding a drop. Lowering gaze, saw Fukuyama’s neck stub mashed with tattered muscles, white sprouts squirming disgustingly.

"Hiss..."

Fushimi turned away, preparing his sheath. The floor trembled suddenly, assuming an illusion, monts later, corridor groaned and twisted like intestines.