Raiyokan and the Fibonacci Sequence

Chapter 5: First Mission

Then, in the blink of an eye, I broke the sound barrier, tearing through the veil of reality with unimaginable speed. The urban battlefield stretched out in blurred lines as I flew—a force of nature ready to act.

With courage guiding my steps, I landed in the epicenter of the conflict, between police officers and criminals. The sound of gunfire echoed around me, but my determination rang out louder. My heart beat to the rhythm of duality: fear and audacity.

The astonished looks of the police reflected their shock at my sudden appearance. The disbelief painted on their faces mixed with fear of the unknown. Yet the criminals, though equally frightened, seemed to process the unreality of the scene more resignedly, as if, in their chaotic world, the presence of an extraordinary being wasn't entirely strange.

One of the officers, sharper than the rest, gathered courage and approached his colleagues, seeking to calm the turmoil my arrival had caused. His voice came like a beacon of sanity amid chaos.

— We're not going crazy, — he said confidently, easing some of the fear that had gripped the others. — We'll see more situations like this, just wait.

The officer's confirmation was balm to the group's disbelief. The situation, though surreal, now took on a hue of understanding. I remained there, between worlds, the catalyst of change; the officers prepared to accept the fact their eyes hesitated to recognize.

Before the officers could finish processing the situation, and wrapped in the urgency to stop the criminals' advance, I plunged into action. However, an authoritative shout cut through the air, halting me abruptly at the threshold between heroism and reprimand.

— Stop! — a police officer yelled, his voice full of authority.

I turned to him, surprised by the interruption.

— What do you think you're doing? — he asked, his piercing gaze and firm tone expressing disapproval.

— I'm trying to help, — I replied.

— Help? — he repeated, almost disdainfully. — With these powers? Who are you? Where did you come from? And what makes you think you can just interfere like this?

To him, I was an anomaly, a disruption in the carefully established order to fight crime. My act, in the officer's eyes, was not heroic. The origin of my powers remained shrouded in mystery, and he disapproved of how I was using such abilities. The question he asked, which embarrassed me, was simple but loaded with meaning:

— What are you thinking?

The pressure of the question forced me to confront the officer and the consequences of my actions. I was hit by a wave of discomfort, as if, for a moment, the certainty of my heroic mission wavered before authority.

With no choice but to obey the police order, I was incapacitated and led with my head bowed to the sidewalk. The incapacitation was a forced surrender to circumstances. Amid the unfolding chaos, sitting on the sidewalk as a powerless spectator, existential crises swirled inside me. The conflict between police and criminals, which I wished to stop, now unfolded without my intervention, and my identity as Diego and Super Raiyokan was a paradox that tormented me.

As I watched, even endowed with Raiyokan instincts, a sense of helplessness enveloped me. Existential questions filled my mind: who was I really at that moment? Was I, beyond my superhuman powers, just a human being, constantly learning on the path of Kung Fu?

My existence revealed itself in a raw way. As Diego, I was a Kung Fu apprentice, struggling to improve my skills in a world that still presented challenges.

The conflict—a battle between police forces and criminals—was a tangible reflection of the struggles I faced. The Raiyokan powers, undeniably extraordinary, didn't change the fact that, at the core, I was still human, with doubts, limitations, and a common name.

To discover that, despite my evolution, I would still face existential problems, even under the cloak of anonymity.

At the peak of my reflection, immersed in low self-esteem and my swirling thoughts, I was abruptly awakened by the tragedy before me. I heard a loud bang, and the darkness of the night was pierced by the sound of a rifle shot. One of the officers, a fearless man on the front line, had been hit in the thigh, and the world around me seemed to freeze for a moment.

Without hesitation, I ran toward the wounded officer, driven to help him. However, before I could offer aid, I was stopped by a firm reprimand from the officer himself. His eyes reflected pain but also unyielding determination.

— You can't use your powers. Not even to heal me, if you have that ability, — he warned me.

In a moment of urgency, I explained that I didn't have healing abilities, that I was just a medical student, an ordinary person amid the extraordinary confusion unfolding. I promised not to use my gifts, aware that, in that moment, my commitment to humanity would show in simple acts, free of any superhuman skill.

At the height of the crisis, faced with the ban on using my powers, I dove into my academic knowledge, determined to prove that even without supernatural abilities, I could save him. With eager eyes and a sharp mind, I scanned the chaotic environment, searching for any available resource.

The solution came when I spotted the police car. Without hesitation, I opened the rear door and, rummaging inside, found a first aid kit. Armed with knowledge gained during my academic journey, I knew every second counted to save the officer's life.

— Here it is, I found the first aid kit, — I informed him, returning to his side.

— Come on, kid. Show me what a medical student can do, — said the officer, trying to keep morale high.

Using what was in the kit, I improvised a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. I wrapped the injured area skillfully, employing techniques learned in classrooms and labs.

— This will hurt a little, but I need to tighten it more, — I warned, tightening the tourniquet.

— Do what you need. I've been through worse, — he replied, gritting his teeth.

As I applied the tourniquet, the officer's disapproval gave way to my determination to bring relief to the one who risked his life for the community's safety.

In a swift move, I looked around the police car for additional materials that could serve as support. Creativity blooming, I used a jacket as a cushion to support the officer, minimizing the risk of sudden movements during transport. Every action was driven by the urgency of the moment and the conviction that even a student could be the catalyst for salvation.

With the officer settled as best as possible, I sought information about the nearest hospital through the car's radio.

— I need the location of the nearest hospital. We have a wounded officer, rifle shot in the thigh, — I said over the radio, waiting for a response.

Yet the turmoil persisted, bullets flying through the air and the battle between police and criminals reaching a frantic crescendo. Amid the gunfire exchange, a soldier spoke to the officer I was tending, his voice laden with fear.

— Something's wrong, — he murmured, watching the scene with a grim expression. — I'm sure I hit one of the criminals in the head, and nothing happened.

The wounded officer then turned to me and asked,

— Do you know anyone else with superpowers?

The question, in the chaos of the situation, hung like a mystery. I looked around, trying to decipher what was happening. The answer to that peculiarity escaped my understanding. Calmly, I replied to the officer,

— No, at least not that I know of.

As the words left my lips, the atmosphere thickened with fear and mystery. A sense of incomprehension, as if the fabric of reality were being distorted by invisible forces. The exchange of glances among the officers and the uncertainty created tension.

The challenge before me was no trivial matter—not because of the criminal's strength, but due to the revelation that I was not alone in possessing superhuman powers. Like Kenzo, a legendary Raiyokan warrior, I had faced adversity before, but this time, the conflict arose from an unknown situation.